Boom
by Musik34
Summary: COMPLETE. 18th chapter update! The team's newest case deals with a serial killer whose MO comes close to home. What happens when Bones&Booth realize that there is more to the killings than what they seem? BB, HA, ZOC
1. The Big Bang

**Title: Boom**

**Rating: T for violence and language**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Bones. Wish I did. **

**AN: Reviews are friends! This chapter is set right in the middle of the plot. It's short, but I promise for longer ones in the future. Errors are mine.**

Boom

"Excuse me?"

Booth's face froze with sickening realization as the agent on the other end of the line stuttered, "Um, sir, our mail got mixed up again. You have a package from a Kay-Anne Boome. Did you want me to drop it by your office; I'm heading down that way."

"No! Get away from it now. We have a code—"

Booth's frantic words were cut off by the deafening blast of explosives from down the hall. The concussion brought Booth down on the floor forcibly but not after cracking his head against his desk. Dazed, he stumbled to his feet while a constant ringing in his ears plagued his hearing. Vaguely, he could see smoke pouring in from newly formed cracks on his wall and stream in from under his doorway. As the ringing lessened slightly he could discern panicked screams and cries of agony from those who had the misfortune of being caught in the blast and fire.

Wiping a thin trail of blood from his forehead he ran to the door, already knowing of the carnage he'd see. Anger and guilt fueled him as he imagined fellow agents caught in the crossfire of _his_ goddamned case. But before he even reached the doorknob, there was a second blast, much closer than the last one. He was thrown backwards landing on his arm and back. He felt the snap of a bone breaking and he cried out in pain. He felt the floor shake as that level in FBI headquarters crumble as the supports gave in.

Booth's world fell away in a blurred world of darkness and pain.


	2. Bomb Victims

Chapter Two: Bomb Victims

(_One Week Earlier)_

"We have another one."

Booth pursed his lips as Brennan nodded her head, those four words tying her stomach in knots. The acrid smell of blackened flesh invaded her senses. Examining the charred and still smoking remains before her, she and Booth knew that the body was the handiwork of a serial killer.

A murderer that they weren't any closer to catching.

Exactly one month before, Brennan had been called to the scene of a burnt body similar to the one inches before her feet. She was able to identify the victim quickly, for some sort of ID was purposefully placed for the authorities. No clues or any sort of incriminating evidence were left behind for the feds. But Booth and she knew the reason why the victims' wallets were left behind, unmarked.

The bastard was actually toying with them.

The first victim was the father of two, Jake Graceland. Caucasian, 43. No relation to the second victim, Carla Summers, a young girl set out to be an actress. They could only hope that this third victim may shed light on any connections with the previous two. An agent came up to Booth, holding a brown object with gloved hands. Brennan saw Booth close his eyes and take breathe deeply to keep his anger in check. "Third victim is most likely Jeff Hastings, a student in the tenth grade. Driver's permit was found."

Hodgins spoke suddenly, "From what's left of the bomb, I'd say it was the same type as the other two. Burn patterns suggest that gasoline and fertilizers was used in combination with C4. I'm taking samples of it now so I can confirm it at the lab."

"Cause of death seems to be fire," Zach added.

"Way to go, Sherlock," Booth muttered under his breath.

Cam, who was kneeling next to Brennan, looked up sharply and said, "Booth, he's just doing his job."

Booth glared at her, and Cam returned the unwelcome gesture. This was not missed by both Angela and Brennan.

"What kind of person gets his rocks off by blowing people up?"

All except Zach turned to the new voice of the group. Grad student JC Whitney frowned as he studied the remains, his hazel eyes concentrating.

"Try to keep it clinical, JC, we're dealing with a sociopath," Brennan stated flatly. JC gave a weak smile. "Sorry, Dr. Brennan. Trying to break the tension, that's all." He had a slight southern accent.

Following JC's route, Booth relaxed slightly and asked, "You seem normal still. How much longer do you think it'll take for you to become a full-blown Squint?"

"I reckon three more days, man."

This produced tight smiles from the group, except Zach. Angela caught it immediately, but kept it to herself.

"Dr. Brennan, whenever you are ready, we can ship the body to the lab," Cam said as she stood. Her eyes met with Booth's and showed hostility, another detail Angela managed to catch.

"They split up, you know."

Brennan finished bagging the remains and eyed Angela warily.

"Who?"

Shaking her head as if Brennan were a forlorn child, she explained, "Booth and Cam, sweetie. They look like they want to kill each other."

"That's…interesting."

Angela frowned and asked, "All you can say is interesting? This is the part where you try to pry information that I'm already prepared to spill, so ask the details already!"

Brennan sighed, "Ange…what Booth and Cam do in their personal lives is up to them. From what I gather, it was just sex, a need to satisfy biological urges. Apparently, something wasn't right."

Angela could have cried then. "Sweetie…you are so clueless. I don't even know where to start. You can't 'just have sex' with someone—"

"You're the second person to tell me that," Brennan interrupted.

"Maybe you should listen and at least look at other reasons that have nothing to do with anthropology as to why people love and hate each other," Angela noted.

Brennan contemplated that for a few moments and said, "Maybe I should."

"Booth! Wait, I need to talk to you!"

Booth stopped and waited for his partner to catch up as headed to his SUV.

"Why did you and Cam 'split'?"

He whipped around frustration creeping into his face, "What?! Bones, you don't just ask about shit like that, and second, who said we broke up, third, this is so not the place and time to ask, and fourth, why the hell do you care?"

Brennan stepped back, confusion spreading across her features. "You're being defensive again. I was talking to Angela and—"

"Should have known Angela was in on this," Booth muttered.

"—and I asked you because partners share things. You told me that. You also told me you can't just have sex with certain people, something about strings, and I'm trying to understand if that's what happened between you and Cam." Brennan finished, wishing she never jumped into the subject in the first place.

Booth glared at her, shook his head, and stated simply, "None of your damn business."

Brennan folded her arms across her chest. "Fine."

"Fine."


	3. Connections

**AN: **Wow, I'm really happy to know people are liking this. I promise not to disappoint! Backstory chapter. Onward with the show...

Chapter Four: Connections

"I'm sorry."

Brennan glanced up from the third victim's remains, what was left of Jeff Hastings. Booth straightened and took a step forward, his eyes averted from hers. They were alone on the platform, his sudden apology directed to her and herself only.

Brennan sighed and said, "Me, too. What I asked was inappropriate, both in context and in our present situation."

Booth nodded slowly, his eyes finally meeting her face. "We're through."

Brennan frowned, staring at the body before her. "No, I'm not, Booth, I still need to get these bones cleaned and then—"

Booth rolled his eyes and interrupted, "I meant Cam and me, Bones. About what you asked me earlier?" He started fiddling with that poker chip and Brennan asked, "…and you don't want to talk about it?"

"Precisely."

"I understand…if you do want to, I mean you don't have to, just that I'm, well, you know…" Brennan fumbled, confused at her sudden lack of vocabulary. All she'd meant to say was that if he needed to talk she'd be happy to listen. She felt Booth's penetrating gaze and her neck and cheeks flushed with red.

He gave a small smile and answered, "Thanks."

They then remained in comfortable silence for the next few minutes until Booth noticed he was running late for a meeting.

"Oh, shit, Cullen's gonna have my head if I'm late to this," he swore after glancing at his watch. "File's on your desk, I gotta go…"

"Bye, Booth," Brennan smiled, trying not to chuckle.

"Talk to you later," he called over his shoulder as he went down the steps. He nearly collided with an unfortunate messenger, aka, the night janitor, who still grunted angrily long after Booth disappeared completely.

Clearing her throat, she asked the newcomer, "May I help you?"

"This was on the floor of your office when I cleaned it," the janitor said as he waited for Brennan to meet him on the steps. "It actually came for you while I was in there, and I thought you may need it now," he explained.

Brennan nodded her thanks as the janitor handed over the manila envelope. Her name was scrawled on the center in careful calligraphy, the sender unknown.

Curious, she opened the envelope.

- - -

"Zach? You okay? You seemed a little quiet today."

Angela watched her friend's facial reactions as he blinked from his computer screen.

"I'm fine," he answered flatly before returning his attention to the screen. Angela's eyes raised and she yawned casually, "You lie like Brennan. And that's not a compliment."

Zach rolled his eyes irritatingly. "Angela, I have work…of course we could always get JC to do it…"

_Bingo!_

"Uh-oh. You don't like JC?" Angela ventured. She couldn't see why Zach would dislike the youthful and cheery grad student. "Was there something I missed? Did he say or do something that pissed you off?"

"No, no, of course not," Zach answered honestly.

"Then what is it?"

Zach opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself. Angela cursed him inwardly.

"I plead the fifth," he said simply.

Sighing, Angela stood and said, "Okay, okay. I won't bother you anymore."

"No, you'll try to get information from Hodgins or the others," Zach added wryly.

"Hmmm…" Angela murmured in reply. She smiled, knowing that she didn't have any comeback against the truth.

- - -

"_Dear Dr. Temperance Brennan,_

_First and foremost, I would like to commend you on your writing abilities. Your latest book left me on the edge of my seat, and I didn't breathe until the last page was read. One day I hope to be an author, also._

_Anyway, I hope you receive this letter because you have inspired my life in many ways beyond the amazing books you create. Though the press doesn't recognize you and the Jeffersonian as much as the law enforcement, I know of the deeds you accomplished. It amazes me what you see everyday, and what you do to provide truth and justice for lost identities. You give people hope... you see, a very good friend of mine was cheated of his life. I rather not go into the details of it, but I just want to let you know that I look to you and your team for hope. Hope that justice will once again serve those dead. Hope that you can provide me the answers to who snatched my friend from this life. God bless._

_Most sincerely,_

_Kay-Anne Boome_

"Hmm," Brennan sighed absently. The letter left her with mixed feelings. Sadness for the death of the friend. An appreciation that there were some who understood what Brennan searched for everyday—the truth and the justice. But she was also disconcerted. _Did this person really believe that I can solve this murder? Even if I wanted to, I don't have anything._ And that was the least of her queries. Heaviness filled the air, as if the coming of the letter foreboded something worse to come. _Completely irrational…_

_But still…_

Brennan tucked the letter back into the folder carefully, occupied with multiple questions for which she had no answers.

- - -

Booth rubbed his eyes as he sat wearily in his chair, still stuck at FBI headquarters. The meeting was over, but he remained troubled. Looking at the clock he saw it was close to eleven at night. He wanted to tell Brennan something else earlier, but chose to wait until this point. Knowing she'd still be at the lab, he called his friend.

"Dr. Brennan."

"Some life you have."

He could almost hear the smile in her voice, even if it was slightly annoyed. "If I'm not mistaken, Booth, you are calling from your work place, which also implies that you have no life either."

He smiled faintly before answering, "Yeah…I want to talk to you about what that meeting was about."

"Shoot."

He paused shortly before saying, "One of my first cases with the FBI dealt with a serial killer. It was some pretty…pretty bad stuff. MO was bombing the victims."

Brennan caught on immediately and asked, "Like now?"

"Yes. A lot of us are thinking copy-cat. But there are some things that don't add up. The original guy, George Wycliffe, never left identification. But there was an obvious connection. All the victims were widowed wives in there thirties. But now…" he stopped.

"I see…did you consider talking to Wycliffe?"

Booth closed his eyes and rubbed his face. "When we finally figured out he was the guy, he fought back. Hard. Blew a couple of homemade bombs as a screw-you. He ended up getting shot. An agent died. Two others were injured. I was the only one able to walk away that day…" He fought back surfacing memories and waited for Brennan's reaction.

"Is it possible that this isn't a copy-cat killing, that the MO happens to be the same?" Brennan asked.

"I hoped that, but from what Hodgins told me and my people, the same type of bomb was used in both case. And not just the make, but the same damn components. Like a signature. It's in the file I gave to you, didn't you read it yet?" Booth frowned.

"Oh…I'm sorry, I was distracted by something earlier, I didn't have a chance." Changing subjects, she asked again, "So we have the same raw materials for a bomb, no obvious connection, and we're able to ID the victims quickly—by the way, dentals confirm Jeff Hastings is definitely our victim—but what should we look for now?"

"Gut feeling tells me the victims are related, somehow. I say we find it, whatever that element is between Jeff Hastings, Jake Graceland, and Carla Summers. I know you like facts, but I really believe there's a connection. Are you willing to go with me on this?" Booth asked quietly.

He expected her to ramble off on how irrational he was acting, but was surprised to hear instead, "Your gut's been right before…I'll go with you on this one." He breathed deeply feeling more relaxed now then when he first called Brennan.

"That means a lot to me," he said softly.

"I know."

- - -

"Please! I have money, I won't tell anyone what you look like, please, please…"

She was shaking with terror as she cowered on the ground, her tears running freely as she sobbed and pleaded with the figure standing menacingly above her.

"Now, now Abbey…"

She cried harder at the sound of her name. She was tied tightly to a stake firmly planted in the ground, and no matter how hard she struggled, she only managed to have the rope cut sharply into her pale skin.

The bomb around her chest weighed her down even more.

"Please…" she gasped as the figure backed away, holding a detonator. He disappeared into the shadows of the night. She screamed a blood-curling sound of anguish and black fear, knowing no one would hear her. No one would come to her.

The scream was cut off by a blast, a column of fire and smoke rising to the sky.


	4. ZSquared and the Note

**AN**: I apologize for the long time in between updates, I never do that. I was busy trying to find my Inspiration which ran off with Writer's Block and it took me forever to get it back. I strongly suggest re-reading the first few chapters because a number of people were confused on the set up (including me after readin it again) so now one chapter was erased to be put back later. Once again I apologize for everything.

And mistakes are mine.

Chapter Four: Z-Squared and the Note

"Hey, Ange, do you know what Zach's staring at? He looks like he stuck a fork in a toaster," Hodgins observed.

Angela glanced up from her sketchpad and answered, "He's been acting odd for the past couple of weeks. I tried prying some information out of him yesterday, but my charms didn't work."

Hodgins flashed her a grin and answered, "I know someone that your charms will work on."

"Better believe it, Jack."

"Anyway, I think Zach maybe eyeing that archive girl," Hodgins said, straining his head around the corner, trying not to get caught by both Zach or his bosses.

"An actual living woman?" Angela teased as she stood up. "I gotta see this."

- - - -

Zoey Arnolds felt his stare on her back and she instantly became nervous. _He's a doctor. What does he want with me? _

She fumbled with the papers in her hand, knowing she needed to record them in archives soon for Dr. Goodman. But there was one problem: she would have to pass Dr. Addy on the way. _He is kinda of cute, I guess_…

Nervously thumbing long chestnut hair, she contemplated what to do. Ever since Zach Addy showed up at the Jeffersonian, she had sort of a crush on him. She was like him in many ways—socially inept, intelligent, and she was a bit of a smartass when she knew she was right about something.

Zoey thought bitterly back to her high school memories. Any crush she had on a guy left her in a bumbling mess. This would be no different. But she still managed to flicker gray eyes toward Zach to see if he was still watching her. Her face flushed red when she confirmed that he hadn't moved from his spot.

_I'll just look at my papers when I pass him. Simple solution._

Staring intently at her files she made her way across the busy lab to the archival wing. She could almost feel victory in her grasp as she stepped past Zach, that is, until she felt herself walking right into another body. There was a spill of her papers as she tried to catch herself.

She prepared herself for the humiliation of landing flat on her ass in front of only god knows how many people when she felt arms quickly support her. With her fall stopped, she looked right into the eyes of Dr. Zach Addy.

"Whoa! I mean, hi, uh, thanks," Zoey fumbled out. _Shit! That was smooth._

Zach cleared his throat and helped her back to a standing position. "Sure, Zoey." He bent down and started picking up the fallen papers. She did the same, keeping her eyes downcast.

"You know my name?" she asked.

Zach looked up and answered, "It's on your nametag."

Zach noticed she became more disconcerted and he mentally slapped himself. He actually new her name long before he had actually spoken to her. He thought she was beautiful, but like history repeating itself, he'd never tell her. Call it another crush.

She stood as quickly as she could, mumbling thanks. Zach wracked his brain for some rational reason to keep her from leaving. His genius IQ gave him a quick solution, but the hard part was actually opening his mouth.

_Here goes nothing…_

"Wait! Zoey…you think we could get coffee later?" Zach asked nervously. "I mean you don't have to or anything, I understand perfectly? I'll buy though…"

_Angela would slap me right now. Not a smooth way at all to ask…_

He saw a small smile creep on Zoey's face. "Sure, Zach. I'll talk to you later."

Zach smiled back. This seemed to be the only thing going right this month.

- - - -

JC came around the corner just in time to hear Angela making 'awwww' noises while Hodgins tried not to laugh at Zach. "Oh, boy, is this a good time to catch up on the Jeffersonian gossip?"

Angela turned and explained, "Zach's got a date. I'm so proud of him right now, I could scream. And the cute part is their names: Zach and Zoey: Z squared."

"Zach actually thinks about women?" JC grinned. Hodgins snorted and Angela rolled her eyes. Before she could say anything in Zach's defense Brennan came around the corner, her eyes set in stone.

The merriment in the room dispersed entirely as she announced, "Booth called. He said there was an explosion last night ten miles east of Arlington Cemetery. We may have our fourth bombing victim."

---

Booth stood over what was left of an incinerated leg bone, ribs, and what he guessed was part of a skull. Shaking his head, he clutched the ID retrieved from ten feet away, that of an Abbey Mohn. She'd been missing for two days beforehand.

_Sonuvabitch…_

The killer was escalating. Darkly, he knew that there would be another body soon.

"Booth!"

He whipped his head around at the sound of Brennan's voice. His eyes met hers and he saw that they were filled with a stoniness. He looked down at her feet and saw Hodgins carefully handle what looked to be a sheet of paper. Booth's gut feelings sank to his feet, already knowing what was to come.

"What is it?"

Hodgins cleared his throat and answered, "It's a note. Slightly smoldered, which means it was placed after the explosion…"

"And…" Booth prompted.

"It's directed to us. All of us," Brennan said.

With a slightly shaky voice, Hodgins read,

"_Four are gone with more to come. Tell me, is the Jeffersonian's team really up to this? Addy's still a boy, Hodgins and Angela might as well be teenagers in a barn, Saroyan does not have the credentials, the new grad student is useless, and your beloved Brennan has yet to make a shocking discovery. _

_More are going to die. I'm disappointed in the supposed quality of this team._

_And to Agent Booth. You and I have much to talk about, namely the man you killed--George Wycliffe. I will see you soon._

_- - - - - - KB."_


	5. Breaking Point

**AN**: I'm being horrible with updates, I'm sorry. Anyway, Review this, I'm Irish. (No seriously, I am.)

Chapter Five: Breaking Point

Silence descended on the group like a thick blanket. Booth felt all eyes on his back, waiting for an explanation. Was Booth now the target of revenge? JC shook is head, clearing his throat and giving a shaky, "This guy can't insult for shit."

"JC!" the group snapped in unison. He cringed and clamped his mouth shut.

Brennan flickered her eyes to a stiff and tense Booth. "You never said you killed Wycliffe." She was just trying to make sense of everything.

"You really think this is the right time to talk about that?" Booth answered quietly, his eyes never leaving the note. Actaully, Booth didn't kill Wycliffe directly. It was only because Booth had led the investigation that caused Wycliffe to die when they tried to arrest him. Apparently, KB thought it was the same thing.

Hodgins suddenly burst, "I swear, if he says another thing about Angela, I'll find him personally, and—"

"Jack," Cam tried to calm the outraged entomologist, "we'll do what we always do. We'll nail the sorry bastard."

Hodgins bit his lip, the anger still clearly etched across his face. He started snapping the rubberband around his wrist and walked away, muttering to himself.

Cam closed her eyes briefly before declaring, "We cannot let this get to us, people. Bag the remains and we'll get back to the lab." She turned to Booth and added tersely, "I need to talk to you when we get there."

"Wonderful."

_Back at the Jeffersonian _

Booth watched as Cam paced in front of him, debating on what to say. She stopped, visibly collected herself, and began.

"For the time being, let's put our differences aside. Please."

Booth sighed and nodded his head. He didn't want to fight anymore. "Gotchya."

Cam shook her head, relieved that they weren't arguing. An old nostalgic feeling enveloped her, and she couldn't help but feel a pang of regret for the way she treated Booth after their break-up. She wouldn't have known it, but he felt the same way, too.

"The team is nervous. That letter KB left had a very personal tone to it. He used direct names, implied personalities—that tends to scare people more than anything," Cam said. "It's like he's known us all along."

"I know. I can get more security around here. Hopefully that'll calm everybody down," Booth nodded.

"And then there's the part about you…we're all worried about you, Booth. I think this guy's agenda is to get you. Which is why there doesn't seem to be a connection among the victims. He's just trying to get you on the edge, maybe out in the open so he can…" Cam trailed off.

Booth groaned and answered, "I know that, Cam. But this guy won't get me. I promise. He's smart, but it's not like he has the IQ the squints."

"How do you know that?"

He managed to smile and answer, "Call it a gut feeling." Then he asked, "Is Bones still here?"

"She should be in her office. I said she could go home if she wanted, after today's newest mind game. JC went out to get some fresh air, and Hodgins and the others will be back in a few hours." Cam answered. As he stood to leave, Cam added, "Just be careful anyway, please."

"Thanks," he acknowledged. For a second he thought things would get better.

He was wrong. Booth entered Brennan's office, surprised to find that she wasn't hunched over her desk. He paced, debating whether he should wait until she returned, or look someplace else to find her. He turned, accidentally knocking a folder with papers off her desk and scattering them to the floor.

"Shit," he murmured. He bent to retrieve the papers when something caught his eye. He frowned, and lifted the top sheet.

"_Dear Dr. Temperance Brennan,_

_First and foremost, I would like to commend you on your writing abilities…"_

Booth mentally slapped himself. He was prying into Brennan's fan mail. She'd kick his ass if she caught him. But something wasn't right about the letter. He scanned the writing, and nearly froze when he read the signature.

_….Most sincerely,_

_Kay-Anne Boome"_

"Jesus Christ…" he fumed.

"Booth, what are you doing?" Brennan was standing in her doorway, a look crossed between confusion and anger stitched on her face.

"What the hell is this?" Booth almost shouted. He stalked over to her and waved the letter in her face. She snatched it, cleary frustrated.

"What the hell are you doing looking through my things. It's called privacy, Booth!"

"That's not the point," Booth hissed. "You would think someone as brilliant as you would make a connection here!"

Taken aback, Brennan growled, "What are you talking about."

"Oh, gee, I dunno. Maybe our recent murder/psychotic letter guy, signed KB are the initials for, say another psychotic letter writing person named Kay-Anne Boome. Huh? Oh, and look--Boome. How appropiate since all the victims were BOMBED!" Booth shouted.

"You're jumping to conclusions," Brennan defended herself.

"It's what I fucking do, Brennan," Booth dropped the nickname.

"Well maybe if you hadn't killed Wycliffe—"

"Can it. I'm taking this as evidence, and you better hope no one else dies because of your stupidity," Booth raged. His eyes were filled with livid fury. _How could she just let something like this go?_

Brennan started to retort something, but stopped. Wordless, she stormed out of her own office.

Meanwhile Tanya Bestings was picked off the street, tied to a tree in Arlington Cemetary, and bombed.


	6. The Impossible

**AN: Reviews are loved. I don't own Bones, but I do own the errors.**

**- - -**

**Chapter Six: The Impossible**

"You look tense."

Booth shot a glare at the fingerprint analyist and said, "Just see if you can get any prints off that."

"Well, you mean other than yours and Dr. Brennan's?"

"Yes!" Booth snapped. The other man shot him a look of annoyance before he started to dust Brennan's letter, but continued to mumble under his breath. He already knew that the chances of getting fingerprints were slight, and an angry Booth wasn't going to make his day.

Shaking his head, Booth left the room, frustrated. People were dying. The Squints' safety were possibly in jeopardy, as was his. And he had blown up at Brennan._ Not only is blown up a bad choice of words, it __isn't even close to what I did…_but nonetheless, she should have told him about the letter, it was weird enough.

_So what if she received some odd fan mail? Why would that give her reason to tell you in the first place?_

Booth groaned, knowing he needed to apologize. He was neither her protector (though he seriously wouldn't mind the role) and making connections without hard facts was like a mental roadblock for her. Like he said, he was the one who made the 'effing' connections. That was his job, not hers. After all, she didn't expect him to find a killer after looking at a finger bone. _What the hell do I say to her?_

Before he could even think of a way to make it up to Brennan, the fingeprint analyist came out, shaking his head. "Sorry, Booth. The letter's clean." Booth's anger and guilt surfaced again. If he couldn't find any clues to nail KB, then more people were going to die. _Maybe, just maybe if she had told him though...what if someone else died now?_

Maybe Brennan didn't deserve to get that apology yet.

- - -

"You okay, Zach?"

Zoey studied him, concerned. Though she was thrilled she was on an actual date with him, it hadn't been exactly cheery. Something was on his mind, and she knew what it was.

Zach looked over at her, giving a weak smile. "Yes…it's just this case we've been working on…"

"The letter got to you, huh?" Zoey said softly, her eyes fixated on the coffee before her. From what she heard the letter had been very perosnal. Threatening. And she was pretty sure it had soemthing to do with the DC bombings over the past month.

Zach frowned. "Who told you that?"

She looked up and answered, "It's all over the lab…dude, I'm really worrid about you."

Zach chuckled slightly at the 'dude'. That was Zoey's way of showing she cared, like how Booth called Brennan 'Bones'. He liked the label.

Knowing Zoey was just as worried as he, he tried reassuring her by replying seriously, "I'll be fine. The letter seemed to be directed at another one of our team members."

Zoey frowned, still unconvinced. She didn't want anything to happen to him, and the thought of some insane murderer coming after the Jeffersonain's top team scared her. Zoey remembered Howard Epps and shuddered.

"It's just that I remember hearing on the news that you died during when that Epps guy went after Dr. Brennan. I just about passed out," Zoey said quietly.

Zach looked at her, unsure if how to respond. He was getting the sense that she liked him long before this date, and that made his heart swell. But at the same time, he was concerned with making sure she didn't have to worry about his safety. Slowly, he answered, "The chances of that happening again are slim. It's downright impossible."

"Right, and sixty years ago it was impossible for man to go to the moon," Zoey pointed out.

"Just trust me on this. Please? I will be careful."

Zoey sighed, and finished her coffee. She locked eyes with him, nodding. Placing her hand atop his arm she asked, "Promise?"

He stiffened at her gesture, unsure of how to respond. Slowly he relaxed, placing his hand atop of hers. He gave her a toothy grin and responded with, "Sure… 'dude'."

Zoey laughed, standing up. "Hey look, those annoying things called careers are beckoning us back to the Jeffersonian. How about next time we go out for a dinner or something?"

"That sounds good," Zach answered, relieved that Zoey was still interested in him. But as he followed her to her car, he stopped. That feeling of euphoria was replaced with something he could not describe, something that hit him at the bottom of his stomach. He groaned inwardly, the invading feeling increasingly becoming familiar since the past month.

Zoey realized that Zach wasn't following and she turned around. A look of confusion crossed her face.

"Zach?"

At that moment Zoey's car erupted into a deafening blast of fire and sharpnel. Zach was thrown back onto the curb, landing hard on his back and cracking his head off the concrete. Pieces of metal sliced into his skin and screams broke through the chaos. He couldn't tell if the cries were from himself or other bystanders.

_Oh, God, Zoey…_

He looked for her, but his vision moved crazily. He was unable to focus on anything, and soon the blood from his head streamed down into his eyes. He felt ready to vomit, and breathing became the most difficult task for him. And he still couldn't move. His vision began to darken and narrow. He took a shuddering breath, trying to call for help.

_Bomb…Zoey…_

He couldn't breathe anymore. He felt his body go limp before one final thought crossed his mind. _This is the impossible. _


	7. Faults

AN: I'm back from my trip to Mongolia. No computers there. On with the show, and I don't own Bones.

Chapter Seven: Faults

"_Come on Zach, you're okay." _The voice sounded nice. He would have smiled if everything didn't hurt so much. His mind tried to clear itself from the fog he was in. _"I am Zach. Dr. Zach Addy. Now where the hell am I."_

"Zach, it's Angela. Wake up, you're alright."

"_Angela…that must mean the others are here. Dr. Saroyan, Agent Booth, Dr. Brennan, and Dr. Hodgins….where is here?"_

He smelled antiseptic. Heard a beeping. He felt cold. _"More than likely a hospital….oh my god…."_

Zach opened his eyes slowly and with difficulty. He focused on a tear-stained Angela before moving to grim appearing Hodgins, Brennan, Cam, and Booth.

"Car exploded," Zach rasped.

Brennan stepped forward, her hand across her face. Booth left immediately to fetch a doctor. Angela brushed her hand across Zach's face, careful to avoid stitches and gashes. "We know, Zach, we know."

Zach tried to shake his head, "Zoey, the girl…" He stopped when Angela's eyes went to the floor. "Try not to talk, Zach. You got hurt."

Booth returned, telling Cam a doctor was coming. Zach wanted him to shut-up, he needed to know where Zoey was.

"But…"

"Zach," Cam tried to interrupt, "you have a concussion and five broken ribs. One punctured your left lung. You need to rest."

Zach stared hard at her, but felt himself growing tired. Shuddering with exhaustion and pain, his voice cracked, "Where's Zoey? Did…Kay Anne Boome…did…." he couldn't finish. He didn't want to know the answers.

Brennan spoke quietly, "Your friend, Zoey. She's not doing so good. She was one of the closest people to the blast. Her family has already been contacted…they don't think she'll make it."

Zach felt his eyes water. "And Boome?"

Brennan forced herself to look at Zach, who as fighting to breathe and battling tears. He already knew the answer. She just had to say it. "We found a note tied to a telephone pole a few feet away. It's her. Zach, I'm so sorry."

"You…you knew," Zach choked out. Booth remained silent as the others cast their stares to Brennan. They all understood Zach's accusation. If Brennan had given her creeped-out note to Booth, Zach may not have ended up in the hospital.

Zoey wouldn't be dying.

"Get away," Zach whispered. He turned his head away. Brennan turned, guilt pouring from her eyes. Booth stared hard before walking away. Hodgins whispered to Angela, "What just happened?" His voice cracked with strain.

Angela rubbed her eyes and answered, "People got hurt."

- - -

Brennan stared hard at the file in front of her. So many fatalities in so short of time. After Zach awoke, she went back to the Jeffersonian to try to clear her mind. But instead she sat for hours, thinking about Zach's biting words. She did know. She knew something was wrong. But she wouldn't let herself jump ahead. And now people were dead. She almost lost a team member to her hesitation.

"Ah-hem," someone cleared his throat. Brennan looked up wearily to find Booth. He was slouched, his posture tired and almost defeated. But his eyes were hard and angry.

"What is it?" Brennan asked.

Booth answered, "Twice. Tanya Bestings was murdered today. Approximately during the time Kay-Anne Boome rigged a bomb to Zoey Arnold's car. Twice in one day. Thought I should let you know Tanya's body is coming in another hour." He turned to leave, but Brennan stood quickly.

"Do you think these victim's deaths are my fault?" she asked. _He has to say 'no',_ her mind screamed.

"Yes." Booth answered curtly, shattering her reassuring thoughts. Her heart plummeted through the floor, and she was left speechless. He left quickly without bothering to look back. She fell back into her seat, and wiped furiously at the burning tears that slid down her cheeks.

Booth marched out, and slammed right into Whitney. "Watch it!" the young assistant snapped. Booth shook his head, not even bothering to bark at the newest Squint. Everyone was stressed and on edge. Walking out of the Jeffersonian, Booth punched the wall. His damn case was falling apart.

- - -

"Angela?"

Angela glanced from her sketchpad to Zach. He was supposed to be released within a few days, but she didn't feel ready to leave him alone. Even Hodgins had stayed, taking a night to camp out in one of the immensely uncomfortable hospital chairs.

"What is it, sweetie?"

"Something's odd has happened to me," he said, his voice stronger than when he first woke up.

"Do you want me to get a doctor?"

Zach shook his head. "No. Not that."

Angela leaned in, listening closely, "What's wrong?"

"Something's been bothering me. For the past month." He stopped and looked away. "I've been having bad feelings about things…people…and I don't know what to do. I'm a scientist, I use my head, not my gut."

He coughed while Angela nodded, knowing there was more to come. _So that's what's been wrong with him, the poor guy. _

"Angela…I had a bad feeling going to Zoey's car…and I didn't do anything about it."


	8. Hitting All of Us

AN: Hey! Thanks to all who reviewed, for some resaon, I am unable to reply -- I won't be stringing you along much longer...errors are mine, but sadly not the characters.

**Chapter 8: "Hitting All of Us"**

"I want the files…with all due respect Dr. Saroyan, I'm bed-ridden--not dead."

"Zach, I know that, but you need to rest--"

"Since when did thinking become such a difficult task? I don't even have to sit up," Zach pointed out blankly.

_Smartass…_ Cam thought to herself. She studied her co-worker with concern. On the outside she saw countless bandages, IVS, and bruises. He also appeared to be ready to take on the world, his posture as firm and as strong as it could be under the circumstances. But yet…

Cam saw more than physical pain. His eyes were heavy with near-defeat and grief…and guilt.

"I want to continue working on the Boome case while I'm in here," Zach repeated.

"Zach-a-ronni," Cam said softly, reverting back to his nickname. At that moment, Brennan peeked her head in the doorway. She didn't want to come into the room and face Zach, and after Booth's scathing words she was operating on auto-pilot. _How could he have said those things?_ It seemed as if her closest friends had cut her off. She wasn't able to fall back on rationality--all she had was heartache.

Brennan swiped at her face again. _Pull yourself together, now! _She sighed, controlling her breathing before looking back at Cam. The only reason why Brennan was back at the hospital was because Cam wanted to speak with her. She listened while Cam spoke softly to Zach.

"You just want to get Boome. We all do, Zach…it's hard. You feel like you could have done something for Zoey, that you let her down. You're angry, you're--"

"I know how I feel," Zach snapped.

"--you're hurt. You're wondering 'why her?' and 'how could this have happened?' And I know that means you would do everything possible to make it up to her, even if it means working yourself to death. But you're forgetting some things." Cam finished.

Zach looked up from, his face set in stone.

"There was nothing you could do. And that, being the truth, hurts worse than the 'what ifs' running through your head…and Zoey is fighting. The blast should have killed her, but it didn't. Isn't that a testament to her strength, her will to live? She's still here, Zach. You need to concentrate on that. I'll bring in your work from this case, but you have to promise me you remember we're a team--a family. Boome didn't just hurt you and Zoey--she hit all of us. We all are responsible for getting Boome. You're not carrying this burden by yourself," Cam finished.

A few silent moments passed, and Zach nodded his head slowly. "Yeah," he choked out. Cam hugged him gently as his vision clouded with tears. Brennan slipped out of the room, biting her lower lip. She felt Zach's pain, but unlike Cam, didn't know how to ease it.

Brennan had said it herself--she had more meaningful relationships with the dead than the living, she thought spitefully.

A light tap on her shoulder pulled Brennan out of her thoughts. Cam had left Zach alone, and the two women began walking down the hall. Once they were far enough away, Brennan heard Cam say, "Zach really latched onto Ms. Arnolds."

Brennan only nodded and asked, "Do you know how she's doing?"

Cam rubbed her face and answered, "The docs are calling for a miracle."

Brennan shook her head and Cam said suddenly, "Don't let Zach's reaction upset you. I mean, yeah, you had the note, but you really didn't know there was a connection. Everyone makes mistakes."

"Booth thinks some of the deaths are my fault," Brennan pointed out icily.

"I know," Cam said. "He's upset. People tend to say things they don't mean. You need to talk to him about what's happened, but don't do it now. Wait until he's settled down. Also, Angela and Dr. Hodgins are worried about you, too."

Cam then gave a tight smile before adding, "If you wanna look on the bright side, only Zach and Booth are pissed at you."

"Thanks," Brennan replied after a few moments. "That actually helps."

"Good. Now, I hate to bring more bad news, but Dr. Hodgins found this at the Bestings crime-scene."

Cam pulled out an evidence bag with what appeared to be a charred piece of metal. Brennan took it and looked at it closely. She was able to make out the initials to be WGW.

"It's a ring," Brennan stated.

"It looked like it was pulled off by the victim. She fought back against Boome. Now, we have this ring, with the same initials as the man Booth shot--William George Wycliffe," Cam added. "I don't want to go out on a limb, but I think it's safe to say we have a copycat, someone who is much more closely related to Wycliffe than we originally thought."

"Booth was right."

"And in danger," Cam pointed out.

"Well, we better solve this case then," Brennan said briskly. She looked at her watch and asked, "The sun's about to come up. I was able to catch a few hours of sleep. You?"

Cam nodded and Brennan said, "I'm going back to the lab. I can get you Zach's things."

Cam nodded again, disturbed knowing Booth was a target.

"He'll be okay," Brennan assured Cam.

Cam sighed and agreed, "He always is."

- - - -

The time would be soon. Glancing down at the watch the stranger watched for a change in the resolute and quiet FBI building. The team at the Jeffersonian and the agent had no idea what was about to hit them. The stranger smiled, knowing years of research and waiting were about to pay off in one giant blast.

"Five, four, three, two, one…"

A deafening blast rocked the sidewalk and FBI headquarters. The windows shattered and rained down, chunks of flaming debris following. A second blast followed soon after and the stranger watched with glee as one of the floors began sinking onto itself, the pillars and foundation crumbling from the bombs.

The stranger became slightly alarmed after noticing the blast didn't directly originate from Booth's office.

_I know the layout of this building like the back of my hand. _

Studying for a moment, the stranger realized though the bombs didn't detonate in exactly Booth's office, the damage was enough to kill the agent.

The stranger smiled manically.

_Kaboom!_


	9. Shocking News

AN: Woot. Two chapters in two days. Readeth and Reviewth please! d--b

**Chapter Nine: Shocking News**

Angela cringed as she heard her best friend utter a soft, _'bastard' _into the phone. Brennan came out of her office, looking haggard and angry.

"You talked with Booth?" Angela ventured.

Brennan flashed blue eyes to her best friend. "Cam said I should have waited to speak to him. She was right."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Do you want me to kick him?" Angela tried.

Brennan missed the attempted humor and answered, "He says he's on the road, going to the Bestings house."

Angela placed a hand on Brennan's shoulder, saying, "So no kicking?"

"No, Ange. I'm just going to go back to the Jeffersonian to get Zach's things."

Angela sighed, wishing she could do something more. Things had fallen apart. And it looked like they weren't going to be fixed anytime soon.

_

* * *

_

(30 minutes later)

"Tempe!"

Brennan jerked up sharply from Zach's desk, startled by her best friend's cry. She set his requested file sheets back down, cursing her frayed nerves. _What did I tell you, Bren? Pull it together! _

Brennan shot a glare towards Angela's office, wondering what the hell would cause Angela to scream that early in the morning. Hodgins and Angela had trudged back into the Jeffersonian an hour before looking like the walking dead, each operating on a few hours of sleep due to Zach's accident. Screaming was the last thing Brennan expected out of Angela.

_Something isn't right…_

Her best friend appeared shocked as Hodgins rushed over. Brennan watched impatiently as Angela whispered a few words to him. His reaction was more than evident. His jaw dropped a few inches as disbelief spread across his features. She motioned to the small television in the corner and he quickly disappeared.

A sudden dread plummeted to her stomach as she quickly left the platform and she called, "Ange, is everything okay?"

Angela met her halfway, nearly running. "It—it just came on, they're saying so many people di—with the fire…"

Brennan couldn't make any sense of Angela's panicked ramblings. "Slow down, what fire?"

Angela visibly inhaled and exhaled deeply, damned if she'd lose her composure. "There was another explosion. It's on TV…"

She started pulling her friend to her office, unable to say any more, knowing that her fear and astonishment were on the brink of bringing her to tears. But Brennan halted in her tracks.

Tentatively, she asked, "Where, Ange?" She already knew by the expression on Angela's face that the newest bombing was caused by Kay-Anne Boome, Booth's and her case.

Booth.

Her eyes widened as she remembered her partner.

"Angela?"

Quietly, as Angela started leading her friend, "There were two explosions at the Hoover building. FBI Headquarters…and—"

Brennan broke from Angela's hands and broke into a sprint, her worst fears confirmed. Already in the room were Hodgins, Cam, JC, and a few curious onlookers. All eyes were glued to the telecast.

"…_We are still waiting word on how severe the fatalities are. Two explosions were heard from inside the building roughly twenty minutes ago. Although it's early in the morning, you can see in the background firefighters and paramedics enter the building, and every time they exit they bring wounded. According to some information we have, the explosions were about twenty seconds apart on the second or third floors. The source of the blasts are still unknown, but there are rumors circulating that the Federal Bureau of Investigations headquarters was bombed, which may be in connection with a series of gruesome murders in the DC area from the past month…"_

"Oh my God," Cam whispered, her hands shaking as she hugged herself.

"We know those people," JC said, his face contorted with pain. He sat heavily on one of the chairs, his mouth gaping.

They stared at the smoking building and their stomachs rolled as the flames licked at the darkening sky. All were too terrified to ask the obvious until Cam cleared her throat and directed a pleading look to Brennan.

"I-I haven't been able to get a hold of Booth. Do you know if he was…" Cam bit her lip before finishing, "if he was in the building at the time of the blasts?" Several pairs of eyes turned to Brennan's, searching for answers and relief.

"When did the explosions occur?" Brennan asked, trying to collect her mind into one piece.

"The reporter said it's been about twenty minutes," JC answered.

Cam cleared her throat and added, "Booth wouldn't have been in the building. He said he was going to the Bestings house, try to find anything that would connect her to the other murders." She still looked as if a tank ran her down, and she didn't seem to believe what she'd known. She pulled out her cell and dialed Booth's number.

JC stood suddenly, demanding, "Are you sure?"

Cam nodded her head, her eyes questioning the young grad student. He shrugged his shoulders and explained, "Sorry guys. It's just after that note the chick sent, I've always felt Agent Booth wasn't safe."

Cam hung up suddenly, her face turning an extra shade of gray. "I can't get a hold of him."

Brennan offered, "He's probably dealing with this crisis…" She flinched at her word choice, but Cam just continued nodding absently, as if the more she told herself that, the less reality would intrude.

Brennan's mind raced back to the last time she talked to Booth, a mere half hour ago. It had been bitter, as if he could care less about what she had to say. She remembered disdainfully that over the course of this case, a gap was driven between them, and she was at fault for causing part of the space.

"_Booth."_

"_Where are you?"_

"_Hello to you, too, Bones."_

"_Don't even try the charm thing, Booth."_

_She heard a sneer. "I wouldn't even dare try wasting it on you."_

_She fought the urge to take his bait and repeated, "Where are you?"_

"_Yes, mother, I'm in my car, heading to the Bestings as we speak. I get to see Tanya's parents first hand this time. Don't worry, I'll leave out the part about how she might have lived if some people were doing their jobs in the first place, Bones," he added harshly before hanging up._

_She listened to the dial tone for a minute before slamming the receiver down._

"_Bastard…"_

She felt like she'd been stabbed by his last remark, and it cut almost as bad as the last time they fought.

It might have hurt less if those accusations weren't completely false in the first place. Shaking her head, she tried to drive the harsh exchange of insults to the back of her brain. Even though she detected guilt in his voice, it still hurt like hell. Then, the absurd thought crossed her mind that she didn't hear any traffic on the other end of Booth's cell when she had phoned him. It had been remarkably clear unlike the other times she called him when he was driving.

It was like she called him when he was in his office.

Brennan bit her lower lip as she dug out her cell phone. She needed to hear his voice, even if he was still angry with her. The horrible thought crossed her mind that Booth might have somehow been in the building at the time of the bombings. She couldn't help but imagine the worst-case scenario, and she swallowed a lump realizing that there was the possibility she'd never have the chance to talk to him, to mend their broken friendship.

And that frightened her more than death itself.

"Come on, Booth, just pick up already…" she pleaded to herself.

Across town in the smoking and collapsed level of debris and darkness, a cell-phone rang weakly, drowned out by the sounds of shouts, fire, and ambulances.


	10. Ground Zero

AN: A little twist here.

AN2: Check out my Zach-centricish fic, "Far Away from Home".

**Chapter Ten: Ground Zero**

The roads would have been black if it hadn't been for the gray dust from the building debris. Offices across the street, the tops of the trees, and unlucky vehicles crushed by falling concrete, the world was nothing more than a filthy coat of dust. Sirens resonated, their cries mixed with humans' and the unmistakable roar of fire and collapsing foundation. Dazed people reduced to nothing more than empty shells waited numbly for news of loved ones while paramedics continued brining out the dead and wounded.

Brennan thought if Hell existed, this was it.

She sensed J.C. stop and take in the damage around him. The young grad student had joined Brennan at FBI headquarters, while the others waited back at the Jeffersonian for word on how bad the building had exploded.

And to confirm Booth hadn't been in the building.

"God, is that Cullen?" J.C. pointed out.

Brennan followed J.C.'s stare and spotted the deputy director sitting on the back of an ambulance, bandages covering the entire left side of his face. She and J.C. made their way through the mass of reporters and onlookers to Cullen.

"Cullen?" Brennan asked as she got to his eye level.

The far off look of shock disappeared momentarily from his eyes and he queried, "Dr. Brennan? What are you doing here?"

"Do you know where Booth is?" Brennan asked quickly.

Cullen shook his head and then winced. "I don't know…I'm sorry…Jesus, I can't think straight."

Brennan took in the carnage around her as J.C. tried getting some more information out of Cullen. _Boome did all this…Booth has to be okay, he couldn't have been in the building._

"Dr. Brennan, I think we should stay and help. The medics are swamped," J.C. said after awhile. Brennan agreed and answered, "Of course. And if we stay we'll find out where Booth is."

"Chances are he's helping the medics, too. Agents who weren't hurt in the blast are going through rubble for survivors…Dr. Brennan can I ask you a question?" J.C. cleared his throat nervously.

"Sure."

"Why are you so concerned for Booth? I thought you two were fighting."

Brennan sighed and said without thinking, "Because we're partners. We fight. We forgive. It's what friends do. I just…"

She paused and J.C. waited patiently, his hazel eyes worried. Brennan looked down at him and finished, "I just hope he hasn't stopped feeling that way either."

Brennan's cell suddenly rang and both J.C. and she froze. _Please let it be Booth…_

She answered it quickly, her heart pounding. "Booth?"

There was a pause and Cam answered, "Sorry, Dr. Brennan. I just wanted to know if you reached him yet…"

Brennan shook her head to J.C., compelling him to kick a piece of rubble in frustration. He walked away, rubbing his face. While Brennan was talking to Cam, J.C. picked up a conversation between two slightly injured agents.

"…_he tried to warn people when he first realized there was a bomb in the building…"_

"…_yeah, but Booth only had a few seconds. I don't know if he got out himself…"_

"_No…there was no way he would have had enough time."_

J.C.'s eyes grew dark as he came back over to Brennan. Hanging up with Cam, she said, "I told her we didn't find out anything new and that we were staying here…hey, are you alright?"

He nodded, "Yeah. I'm good. We should start helping the victims."

Brennan took off her jacket and started heading toward the wreckage, sticking her cell in her back pocket. Without realizing it, the phone dropped and landed on the ground behind her. J.C. quickly scooped it up and hid it in his own coat. Brennan turned then and asked, "What's wrong now?"

J.C. flashed a tight smile and said, "Nothing."

She shrugged her shoulders and headed towards a limping man.

J.C. shook his head. _Idiot._

* * *

Booth slowly opened his eyes. He coughed as he tried taking a deep breath. He tasted blood and dust in his mouth, and felt a few broken teeth. He tried moving his foot to make sure he wasn't paralyzed in the fall to the basement. His efforts were rewarded with a shot of pain.

_Kay, not crippled…_

He became aware of the fact that his left arm was twisted under his back.

_That's gotta be broken._

Groaning, he tried lifting himself off, but part of the ceiling was pinning him down. With his free hand, he felt the pockets of his suit for his cell. Seeing he still had battery life and a weak signal, he could have cried with happiness.

Speed-dialing Brennan's number, he fought off a wave of dizziness. He coughed up more blood and felt himself beginning to slip back into unconsciousness. _Damn it, stay awake._

He heard someone answer, "Yes?"

Booth was able to croak out, "Bones?"

There was a long pause before Booth heard the distinct click of a hang-up. "Bones?" Booth muttered weakly as he fell back into darkness.

* * *

J.C. flipped Brennan's cell shut, pleased.

Booth was still in the building.


	11. Fears

Chapter Eleven: Fears

Angela elbowed and pushed her way past the crowd of reporters and onlookers. She worriedly scanned the swarm of Good Samaritans and medics, hoping to catch a glimpse of Brennan , J.C, or even Booth. Her eyes picked up on a familiar face, and Angela felt her heart plummet to her feet.

"Oh, sweetie!"

She ducked under the yellow tape, ignoring the cries of protest from police officers. Brennan on the other hand , was oblivious to the world around her as she supported an injured woman with her left arm, and a little boy with her right. Just as she was about to slip and fall, Angela caught her.

"Oh my God, Bren, let me help!"

Brennan lifted her eyes, exhaustion clearly taking a toll. Her face and clothes were covered with the blood of others. Angela spotted scratches and minor cuts from digging in the rubble along with torn clothes. Brennan let Angela take the crying little boy from her arms, murmuring, "Thanks, Ange."

Once the two were given to medics, Angela brought Brennan to a curb to rest.

"Tempe, take a break, please," Angela urged.

"Wait, what are you doing here?"

"To make sure you were alright…you look like absolute hell."

"There's so many more people. The damage on the outside doesn't look that bad, but because the blasts came from within, it took out more levels, andIcan'tgetaholdofBooth--" Brennan started panicking.

"Whoa, slow down," Angela fretted.

"Rationally, Booth would be here by now. Even if he made I all the way to the Bestings, he would have heard about the bombs and come back here. No one knows where he is," Brennan said darkly.

Angela placed an arm around Brennan's shoulders.

"It's going to be okay," she tried. "Booth can look out for himself."

"I'm…Ange, I'm scared."

Angela looked at her friend with sympathy and shared fear.

"I know. I know, Tempe."

* * *

Booth felt water trickling down onto his face, but didn't bother opening his eyes. The water was probably turning into mud anyway from the dust and blood.

_But I'm really thirsty…won't matter soon anyway._

His eyes snapped open. What was he thinking? He didn't want to die, he couldn't. He'd been in some bad places before, but he always survived. _But this…this seems different. _

"Need to call…" he muttered weakly to himself. He went to push the redial button, but stopped. _She hung-up last time. Or was that a dream?_ If he could have shaken his head, he would have. He couldn't remember. _Maybe I'm dreaming now…_

Booth opened his eyes again, this time the water wasn't splashing his face anymore. He sighed, knowing that his continued blackouts were a bad sign. He needed medical help, soon. He went to dial the number again but discovered he had dropped the cell during his last bout of delirium. It was now out of reach.

_Great. _

Booth tried pushing the drywall and debris off him, but only accomplished wasting what little strength he had left. The phone lay a few inches past his hand, mocking him. His eyes traveled to his outstretched hand and grimaced when he saw extensive burns. _Where the hell did those come from?_ He also saw a large pool of blood under his leg, and watched with a dull fascination as it swallowed little pieces of plaster. At least he didn't feel his broken arm anymore…

_So this is how it's gonna be. Waiting to die. How could have things come to this?_

"You ignored the letter," he muttered. The one that point-blankly said he would meet Kay-Anne Boome again.

_But what about the others? Jake Graceland, Carla Summers, the attempt on Zoey Arnolds, Jeff Hastings, Abigail Mohn, and Tanya Bestings? What do they have to do with me?_

"Everything…" he answered himself.

_They were killed to get to me. To draw me out. She's probably watched me this entire time, waiting for the right moment. Who the hell is she anyway? What would Kay-Anne have to do with Wycliffe anyway? He's been dead for years, one of my first cases. And holy hell, I think I'm going to throw-up…_

Booth was overcome with dizziness and a sickening grip on his stomach. He was able to turn his head before vomiting, his ribs wracking.

"Oh, God," he choked out.

_No way in hell am I gonna die now. Too many things left unfinished. Too many people left behind…_he needed to get a hold of Brennan so she could send for help.

"This is gonna hurt," he groaned.

He tensed, his arm outstretched and reaching for the phone. With his last ebb of strength, he jerked his upper body toward the cell, causing his broken arm to grind against the ground, the nerves and torn tendons tearing against each other. Booth screamed in pain as his hand clamped down on the cell. Shaking violently, he brought the phone to his chest where he would not lose it again.

"Okay," he wheezed, darkness creeping onto his vision. He dialed Brennan's number. "Come on, Bones, pickup…"


	12. Little Jason Charles All Grown Up

**Chapter Twelve: Little Jason Charles All Grown Up**

_1997_

"_Mom? What's going on?"_

"_Shut-up!!"_

_Jason Charles Wycliffe shrank back from his mother in fear and anger._

"_Christ, all I wanted was some answers," he muttered._

_Mrs. Wycliffe heard her son's whispers and yanked him forward by his arm, hissing, "Listen to me you little brat, your brother is in trouble. Are you blind, or can't you see these fucking federal agents around George's house? Huh? You filthy piece of dirt, get the hell away from me!"_

_She shoved J.C. away, his eyes brimming with tears. "I just want to help my brother!"_

_He turned and ran around the yellow-tape surrounding his brother's house. The skies were dark and threatening to weep, distant thunder rumbling. Strange men in suits and body armor kept him from getting any closer to the house._

"_Come on, Georgie, what's going on?" J.C. said to himself. His brother had always been there for him since their father had split. Georgie was his protector, he kept the bullies away and his mother's anger directed elsewhere. He cooked food when J.C hadn't eaten all day. When she'd screamed at him, Georgie always took the blame and punishment_

"_It's okay, Jason. Little bro, you're gonna be alright," he had said one night after a particular rough __beating with a rolling pin._

_He was Georgie…even when he left the house, he always came back to make sure J.C. was okay. People said Georgie was off, weird, whatever. But to J.C., he was the only friend he had._

_J.C. started running, he needed to help his brother. But instead of getting very far one of those agents stepped backward, causing J.C. to collide with him. J.C. bounced off the older man and onto the ground. Looking up he saw a man in his mid to late twenties, a grimace crossing his face. _

"_Hey, what are kids doing here?" he yelled to an older man._

_A man, whose jacket clearly read, 'Dpty. Dir. Cullen' called back. "Booth, he's family of the bomber. We can't send them outta here, but just make sure he stays past the tape. We don't know what Wycliffe is doing in there."_

_Booth turned and pulled J.C. up. "You heard the man. You need to stay away. We don't want any more people hurt."_

_J.C. pulled away and demanded, "Bomber? Whatever you think George did, he didn't!"_

"_Booth!! Looks like he's gonna start shooting, we need back up! Get over here now! And where the hell is the SWAT team?!"_

_J.C. was forgotten as a mass of agents, including Booth, drew weapons and make their way toward George's house. The young boy stepped back, unsure of what to do. He called out, "Mr. Booth!! Don't hurt my brother!"_

_At that moment, the skies opened and rain poured hard. A second later, there was a blast within George's house._

_The front door blew out and nailed an agent in the head. Shrapnel followed afterward, razor-sharp edges cutting through several agents arms or legs. Fire licked the sky and smoke billowed out from shattered windows. Screams pierced the sky._

"_GEORGIE!"_

_Shouts followed, but this time Booth and several agents had gone around to the back of the house. J.C. sprinted, and came around the corner to see George unharmed, running towards the woods. In his hands he wielded two handguns. J.C. watched as his brother fired off the weapons. A short time later, an agent stumbled to the ground, clutching his shoulder. J.C. saw Booth raise his gun, and with deadly aim, fire one shot._

_George Wycliffe stopped suddenly, his body suddenly stiff. A stream of blood ran down his face, originating from a gaping hole between his eyes. He fell, lifeless to the ground._

_J.C. screamed again..._

Brennan's cell rang again, bringing J.C. out of his thoughts.

Or nightmares.

He saw Booth's number flash on the screen. He felt rage rock his being, and he answered without saying a word. Booth was going to pay for his brother's death.

There was long pause before he heard Booth whisper, "Bones? Oh, god…I need--I need help. Basement…"

J.C. hung up and tossed Brennan's cell into the rubble. He cracked his knuckles and neck, nothing going to stop him now. He knew where Booth was. He was going to finish what the blast didn't. J.C. looked down at where his brother's ring used to be before one of the bombing victims pulled it off.

William George Wycliffe. Nothing more than a charred ring somewhere.

J.C. sighed as he made his way around the building, trying to find a way in. Revenge hadn't been his number one goal. After George…after what had happened, he never forgot the agent who shot his brother. He was fourteen at the time--ten years later, J.C. had put himself through college on scholarships to become a forensic anthropologist, changed his last name to Whitney--ironically not to avoid connection with George, but to avoid contact with his mother.

Though George always remained a dark memory in his life, he was moving on.

And then Dr. Goodman brought him onboard to the Jeffersonian. A grad student. He was part of the best forensic team in the country. _Not that good, considering they haven't found the connection between the victims._

And then he bumped into Booth.

He couldn't believe it. He had actually shaken hands with his brother's murderer. It had taken every ounce of strength and willpower in his body not to kill Booth right there. He went home that night.

And snapped.

_Well, that's what everyone said about George. I did what I needed to catch Booth off-guard. _

Things would have been perfect if the bomb had actually detonated in Booth's hands…J.C. stopped. He spotted a dark opening, caused by the foundation cracking. He saw a fireman exit. _If someone can come out, someone can come in._

_Time to find Booth._

* * *

_AN: Because it's been awhile, George was brought up in Chapter 3, I believe._


	13. Where's JC?

AN: Sorry I kept you guys waiting. Studying for finals are a 'bleep'.

AN2: This is the last chapter before the climax. Not saying climax is going to be next chapter, but that the rest are going to be the'seat-gripping' kind of drama. Mistakes are mine. Bones isn't. Reviewth please!

**Chapter Thirteen: "Where's J.C.?"**

Things were slowing down. The only people paramedics and firefighters were bringing out of the rubble were long past dead. Angela shivered, though the heat from the fires and sun was making her sweat. She looked down at her best friend, who was exhausted and drained, her clothes torn and bloodied. The hollow look in Brennan's eyes frightened her. Brennan was silent, no doubt calculating the odds of whether or not Booth was in the building. Angela could see the frustration welling behind the blankness, and even further hidden in Brennan's eyes, Angela could feel the fear.

"Sweetie, it's going to be okay," Angela urged, but even before the words left her mouth she knew it was the wrong thing to say.

"Is it?" Brennan relied eerily. "Take a look around. Is this okay? Booth's not here. He's probably not at the Bestings, because he would have come back by now. Rationally, this means he lied to me."

"Bren-"

"Because we were fighting already, he didn't want to risk starting another one with me," Brennan continued, a strange hollowness echoing in her voice, "Looking back, if he told me he was still at his office, I would have preached to him about being late. I know I would have, and he knew I would. So he told me he was on the road…so basically, I'm the reason for everything that has happened."

"Tempe," Angela tried again. "Look at me. You did not cause this. Some sick twisted bitch did who had a vendetta against Booth and the others. You did not cause this, understand?" Her voice was beginning to crack with the onslaught of emotion. It killed her knowing what Brennan was feeling.

"Angela, I knew there was something wrong with the first note. I told myself that the feeling was irrational, and that I needed to do the science to find what was wrong. And more people died because of it. And that caused me letting Booth down, which in return caused the worst fight I had ever had--with anyone. And to end this nice chain-reaction, if we weren't fighting, he would have told me he was in the building when I called him and not have lied, and I wouldn't have been sitting here twiddling my damned thumbs wondering where he was and instead be sending help to find him!" Brennan's voice shook.

"Mistakes were made," Angela continued, forcing herself to sound firm. "And in case you haven't learned yet, science can't stop everything, science can't explain everything, and science can't certainly account for everything. We are human, Bren. And humanity shares the blame. If Booth is in that building, you sure as hell didn't put him there. Get my drift?"

Brennan remained silent, mulling over Angela's arguments. Breaking the tension, Angela's cell suddenly rang. Exhaling, Angela answered, "It's Ange."

"Angela, it's Cam. Did you guys find out anything?"

Angela frowned, hearing the controlled panic and fear in the other woman's voice. "I'm sorry, Cam. There's no new news. Bren and I have been helping out with bringing survivors out from the rubble…"

"Christ, he's in the building isn't he?" Cam burst out.

"We don't know," Angela whispered. "But that's what we're all thinking, isn't it?"

She heard Cam take a shuddering breath. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Brennan fighting to keep the tears from spilling. She saw her mouth the words, _I'm so sorry, Booth_, before she pulled her knees up to her chest and hid her face. Angela heard her murmur, "I just want to tell him I'm sorry." Angela swiped her eyes and waited for Cam to finish.

"Yeah, Ange. That's what we're all thinking."

* * *

_J.C. coughed, and with disdain realized that he was inhaling more smoke than what he intended to. Readjusting the makeshift mask, he paused in the darkness. For a moment, he hesitated. Everything he had done had led up to this--a decade old crime was about to be avenged. He had already honored his older brother by killing David-Jake Graceland, Carla Summers, Jeff Hastings, Abigail Mohn, and Tanya Bestings. Though Zoey Arnolds survived, she still was probably going to die anyway from her injuries. The bombings served as a memorial for Georgie, and sure as hell got Booth's attention and drew him out. _

_All J.C. needed to do was finish the job._

* * *

"Hodgins wants to talk to you," Cam said after a long silence. 

"Okay," Angela acknowledged.

"Hey, babe, how are you holding up?" he asked, concern evident.

"As good as I can be at the moment."

"I don't know if this helps, but I have some new information about the blast. Some kid earlier had been messing around his new camcorder a street away from FBI headquarters. He was filming different buildings for a school project and ended up catching the first explosion. Naturally, he filmed the second one too," Hodgins explained.

"Sounds like he's going to have one helluva a school project," Angela said grimly.

"The kid gave it to a reporter. The news station has been playing it over and over again. Looking at the explosion and fire patterns, the bombs were about seven or eight rooms away from Booth's office. The main blasts wouldn't have reached him of he was there. But the second floor has collapsed. Booth would have landed on the first floor, maybe even the basement, assuming he was in his office at the time of the blast, also assuming he was in the building," Hodgins finished. "Zach saw it too, and he called from the hospital. He says the same thing."

"I'll tell Bren that. Thanks, Jack."

"I'm coming out there," Hodgins replied.

"No, wait," Angela urged. "Stay there. Make sure Cam's going to be okay, please."

"But…"

"I'm okay. I'll call you if Booth shows up or calls, or if…you know," Angela shuddered.

"Okay…be careful, okay?"

"I will."

"Wait hold on…" Hodgins paused. Angela heard Cam talking in the background. Hodgins came back on and finished, "Cam says if Booth was in the building, he may be hurt pretty badly." He let the sentence hang, and Angela knew he was thinking _or dead_. She swallowed a lump and said, "Yeah, that's a given."

"He'd be disoriented, not know what's going on…"

"What are you trying to get at?" Angela asked wearily. They both knew this could be happening to Booth as they spoke.

"Brennan should be there, if they find him in the building," Hodgins finished gently.

* * *

_J.C. smiled as he made his way to the doors that were marked, 'Basement level'. He had made his way through the rubble, past the gaping holes in the floor and fire. It had taken him nearly an hour, but here he was._

_One more floor to go._

* * *

"I'll make sure of that," Angela replied softly. "I love you." 

"Love you, too. Call if you need anything…wait, hold on again. Cam's a backseat talker," he tried joking.

Angela smiled sadly and she waited a short time before Hodgins asked, "She wants to know how J.C. is holding up?"

Angela frowned and asked gently. "Bren, sweetie?"

Brennan looked up, obviously crying before. Her eyes were red and her face had wet streaks that trailed through mud, dirt, and blood. "What's wrong, Ange?"

"...Where's J.C.?"


	14. Connections Discovered

AN: Update for "Far Away From Home" coming soon.

**Chapter Fourteen: Connections Discovered**

"Christ!" J.C. grunted as he lost his footing on the rubble, twisting his ankle around. He steadied himself against the door leading to the basement and tested his newly injured foot. To his relief, he was able to put weight on it, despite the dull throbbing it caused. He considered himself lucky for once. Just as he was about to open the door, a rough voice called out to him. J.C. turned, a flood of panic momentarily seizing him. Irrationally his mind began to race with thoughts of discovery, prison, and death. He bent quickly and picked up a brick, hiding it behind his back.

"Who's there!" he challenged defiantly.

A few moments passed and J.C. made out a figure coming towards him. Sighing, he realized it was a firefighter. Shaking his head, he turned his back on the other man and started going down to the basement level where Booth was.

"Hey! Boy, you can't go down there," the fireman called out. _What the hell was a civilian doing in here anyway? All survivors he came across wanted out, not further in_.

"Try stopping me," J.C. snorted.

"The level's unstable, are you crazy?" the fireman said as he tried stepping toward J.C. _Maybe he's in shock…_

J.C. paused and answered slowly, "Some may say that, yes." The fireman squinted in confusion. Reaching out, he tried grabbing J.C. to get him out of the building. J.C. saw this coming and reacted with lightning speed. He brought the brick he had been holding behind his back and smashed it against the other man's head. It knocked the safety helmet loose and as he stumbled back, J.C. swung again. There was a distinct crack followed by a groan. The fireman slipped to the ground. J.C. yanked the oxygen mask off the unconscious man and put it on his own face.

"Should have left me alone," J.C. sighed. He started his descent into the basement.

* * *

Zach stared at the files in front of him, frustrated. He was trying desperately to find the connection between the murder victims. He felt that if he could solve that, then that would bring the team one step closer to finding out more information about Kay-Anne Boome. And that was assuming Boome wasn't an alias. Zach shook his head. This was Booth's job, not his. Zach's eyes flickered to the television and he grimaced, knowing Booth was more than likely in the building when it exploded. Their friend was probably dead. Swallowing, Zach looked back at the files names… 

Then it hit him.

His analytical mind raced as he processed Kay-Anne Boome's intials. _KB, or in the case, KAB. Move the dash, KA-B. Drop the 'e' from the last name and you get Ka-boom. The onomatopoeia for an explosion. _"The other names…" Zach murmured as he wrote down the initials of the victims. _C.S for Carla Summers…Jake Graceland's birth name was David Jake, so that would be D.G. Jeff Hastings is J.H., Abigail Mohn equals A.M., Tanya Bestings is T.B…and Zoey…Z.A. same as my initials…oh my God…_

Zach grabbed the phone and dialed the Jeffersonian.

* * *

"Saroyan." 

Wasting no time, Zach blurted, "I found the connection!"

"Zach?" Cam asked, confused.

"The names! Boome was an alias that equals 'Ka-Boom' so we're not necessarily looking for a woman bomber. And the victim's initials match ours. Each victim represented one of us," Zach ratted off.

Cam tore through her files, and found the list of names. "My God, you're right Zach…wait there's not everyone's name here."

Zach nodded and replied, "Agent Booth. That's because he was the main target. The Federal Bureau of Investigation building was probably the last bomb, aimed to take out Booth."

Cam grimaced and closed her eyes. Booth was supposed to be the final victim. Everyone else was just a lead-up. Hoarsely she asked, "Wait, what about J.C.?"

Zach paused. "I honestly don't know. I mean, he was here before the bombings started so I don't know why he wouldn't be included. I mean, we have you, me, Angela, Hodgins, Dr. Brennan, and even Dr. Goodman. It doesn't add up."

"I don't know either," Cam frowned. "He's missing at the scene."

"Do you think whoever Boome is, he's after J.C.?" Zach asked. "That would seem logical, since his name is missing like Booth's."

"No, because the letter Boome sent seemed to target Booth only. I don't like what's going on," Cam finished, contemplating.

Zach rolled his eyes. Of course they weren't supposed to be liking what was happening. Hell, he didn't care for J.C anyway. Though Zach would never voice it, there was something that just put him on edge whenever he was around the grad student. All he cared about right now was finding out if Booth was alive.

"Maybe J.C. is Boome," Zach snorted, not really having conviction behind his statement.

There was a silence before Cam answered, "Was that you trying to joke around?"

"I…guess…"

"J.C. can't be Boome. He's J.C." Cam shook her head. Hodgins who had been listening snap his head up in equal confusion.

"Well, this think this out rationally. If J.C. were Boome, he wouldn't kill someone with the same initials as himself. He wants to be in control, he decides who lives or dies. So he wouldn't kill himself, which is what he essentially did when he picked out the victims to represent us."

"I hate psychology suddenly," Cam sighed. She started pacing, nervous. What if by some crazy chance Zach was right?

"Same here. The letter Dr. Brennan had addressed all of us sure, but J.C. added his name to keep any remote suspicions off of him. And in the letter, it was like Boome knew us personally. Someone on the inside would only know that."

"Zach, do they have you on morphine? Because this is ridiculous. I know you don't like the guy, but…" Cam interrupted.

"I am very much sober, Dr. Saroyan, and I don't like this any more than you do. Boome tried killing Zoey. And I'm not an incompetant child, I know she's going to die soon. I know that." Cam detected sorrow in his voice. Closing her eyes she sat down next to Hodgins. He was gesturing frantically for information but she waved him off.

"I'm sorry Zach, continue please."

"Zoey was an easy target. J.C. wouldn't have had to go through the trouble of finding a name to match mine. Zoey and he shared the Lab, so she'd be an obvious, easy choice," Zach spat out.

Hodgins grabbed the phone from Cam and asked, "Zach, tell me what's going on, Cam's being a wanktard and not filling me in."

Cam shot him a seething glare and Zach answered, "J.C. might somehow be Boome."

Hodgins frowned and handed the phone back to his angry boss. "I think that just fried my brain," he said sheepishly. "Please, don't mind me."

"Zach, I'm back," Cam said briskly ignoring Hodgins headshakes.

"And don't forget, J.C. is intelligent, which is why he wasn't caught until now. And he insisted on going to the scene with Brennan, and he is now missing," Zach finished.

"Zach this is crazy. What would J.C. have against Booth?" Cam asked, exasperated.

"Well, since J.C. has a name fetish, type his into the database. See if it's an alias of a criminal who would have a vendetta against Booth," Zach said simply.

Cam jumped off the couch and headed toward the computer, Hodgins following her. "Zach, if you're wrong…"

"If I'm wrong, I'll be more sociable to J.C. Even if I don't like him."

Cam gave the phone to Hodgins and Zach gave a quick rundown of his theory. She typed in J.C.'s name in the F.B.I. database and waited impatiently as the information was processed. A few seconds later a big fat "0 Matches found" appeared for criminal records. Cam exhaled, not realizing she was holding her breath in. Hodgins tapped her on the shoulder and said, "Type in George Wycliffe."

"Why?"

"Call it a hunch…damn, Booth's rubbing off on all of us," Hodgins said sadly.

Cam tried it and got a full biography. Scanning quickly, she read, "George Wycliffe…died March 8th 1997, agents killed/injured in attempt of arrest were Snyder, Donnolly, Moran, blah blah blah, aged 23...immediate family includes Marie Wycliffe, mother, and younger brother Jason Charles Wycliffe…" Cam froze.

Hodgins eyes widened and mouthed, _initials!_

Zach sensed the foreboding silence and asked, "What is it?"

Cam slowly clicked on the picture image of 14-year-old Jason Charles. The photo loaded and Cam was shocked to see the cold eyes of a teenaged J.C. Whitney.

* * *

Booth heard a crash. Opening his eyes, he saw the wall shudder. _It's collapsing…_His eyes refocused and discovered the shaking was coming from a door. His heartbeat picked up, and he allowed himself the small hope that someone had come for him. 

"I'm here," he tried calling out. He was more than surprised to hear how weak and raspy his voice sounded. A wave of dizziness fogged his vision, but he was able to make out the door flying open.

He lifted his hand, trying to bring attention to himself. "Please, help…" he whispered.

A figure made his way toward Booth, climbing over debris and avoiding the fire. Booth heard feet crunching on glass, inches from his head. Booth squinted, trying to see who his rescuer was.

His vision cleared slightly and recognized the face as a hand ripped off an oxygen mask…it was J.C.

"What…" Booth asked dazedly. He saw J.C. smirk and answer, "Hot damn, I found myself a dead-man."

Before Booth could process the information, J.C. bent down quickly and wrapped his hands around Booth's throat with almost inhuman force, squeezing tightly. Booth tried gasping for air as he tried pulling J.C.'s hands off, but they were locked in a vice grip. The blood started to pound in his head, and Booth tried clawing harder at J.C.'s hands.

As his senses dimmed, he heard J.C. snarl, "Revenge's a bitch, ain't it?"


	15. Confrontations

AN: Look for another chapter tonight or tomorrow night.

**Chapter Fifteen: Confrontations**

"Revenge's a bitch…!"

_Revenge. What the hell? J.C. Can't breathe…too strong._

Booth's mind shot out jumbled phrases as he started losing his grip on reality. He did not understand why J.C. was here, or why his hands were wrapped around Booth's throat. As Booth pulled at J.C's arms tightly with his one good arm, he tried gasping out a question, a plea, anything to keep from dying. An odd strangled sound surfaced from Booth's throat instead, and J.C. grinned like an idiot. Just as Booth was about to surrender to the darkness, he felt J.C. loosen his grip slightly. His hands were soaked with sweat from the exertion and heat, and Booth knew that the moisture was causing J.C. to lose the grip on his neck. With his remaining ounces of strength, he tried pushing J.C.'s hands toward the side. Booth saw the other man's face grimace as he tried keeping his grip, but there was too much sweat. In a split second, Booth shoved J.C.'s hands off his neck and onto the rubble, buying him a few more seconds. He inhaled sharply and started coughing painfully, all the while sucking in stale and smoky air. But breathing never felt so wonderful. To Booth's utter despair, it was short-lived as J.C. went to attack again.

_God this is it. And I don't even know why I was killed…_

A sudden rumbling rocked the building and J.C. stumbled to the side. Thick chunks of ceiling rained down around the two men. Booth used his arm to cover his head, and ironically, the drywall and rubble that was pinning him to the floor protected the rest of his battered body from the falling debris. J.C. was not as lucky. He looked up just in time to see hundreds of pounds of steel piping head toward him.

"Shit!"

As the second floor finished collapsing onto the first floor, the deadly steel landed around J.C. One of the heaviest clipped him in the shoulder, and he screamed out in pain as he was slammed to the ground. Another pipe came to a rest on his shoulder and arm, pinning him down. J.C. felt a crunch of bone and he screamed again in agony. Booth ventured a look as the last bits of debris settled. He heard J.C. groan and saw the twisted angle his arm jutted out.

"Now we're twins, you sonuvabitch!" Booth shouted in anger.

J.C. gritted his teeth and glared at the other man lying across from him. "Ironic thing you should mention brothers, Agent Booth. Very ironic, you murderer!"

* * *

Brennan heard Angela's cell ring sharply and she jumped. _Maybe it's Booth, maybe he's okay…_she hoped silently. She shook her head, knowing he would call her cell if that were the case. She frowned. _Where the hell is my cell anyway? _Meanwhile, Angela looked at the number and said, "It's Cam." Answering wearily, Angela also had the hope that they had news about Booth. Anything to end this living nightmare.

Brennan watched as Angela's mouth dropped. Brennan stood, instantly on alert. She heard Angela with a shaken voice ask, "Wait, how can that be? Are-are you sure?"

"Sure about what, Ange?" Brennan prompted. Angela waved her hand and signaled Brennan to wait. Sighing impatiently, Brennan shifted her weight from foot to foot. There was a long silence, and all the while Angela's complexion had turned a ghostly white. Brennan tapped her on the shoulder, unable to handle the suspense any longer. Angela jerked and stared at Brennan with wide eyes.

"Oh my God, Tempe. J.C. is Boome. Hodgins, Cam, and Zach figured it out. They have proof and motive and everything…I can't believe it, J.C. was Boome this entire time…I think I'm going to be sick…" Angela trailed off.

Brennan felt her heart stop. She didn't understand. Grabbing the phone from a shocked Angela, she demanded, "What do you mean J.C. is Boome?"

Cam's voice filled her ears. "It's a long story, but we ended finding out that J.C. is George Wycliffe's brother. I am staring at the bloody family portrait. He must have blamed Booth for Wycliffe's death…"

"J.C.'s missing," Brennan exhaled, a wave of panic setting in.

"He must have gone after Booth. I don't know how or where…"

"My phone," Brennan blurted, "my phone is missing. J.C. must have gotten it."

"Booth must have called it, Tempe," Angela added, fear evident in her voice. "He's gotta be in that building, and he must've called for help and J.C. went to finish the job."

Brennan winced while coming to terms with the fact Booth had to have been in FBI headquarters. However, if J.C. went to look for him, it meant Booth was still alive. "Ange, I have to go find him before J.C. does."

"Earth to Brennan," Cam interrupted. "We're making huge leaps here. The only thing we know is fact is that J.C. is Boome."

"Making leaps…something Booth would want us to do right now," Brennan whispered.

Shouts filled the air as a loud crash reverberated in the air. "The second floor is collapsing, get the men outta there!" a police chief ordered. Brennan watched in horror as the second floor crumbled onto the first floor. Meanwhile the Squints watched the same thing happen on the news. Brennan heard Cam gasp and Hodgins swear. A thick cloud of dust billowed out from the gaping hole and shattered windows. She felt the ground shake beneath her feet.

Everything happened so quickly. If Booth was there, he was surely dead now. A few more shouts pierced the air, but Brennan heard none of it. Booth was dead. There was no way he could have survived that…

Angela shook Brennan roughly. "Bren! Snap out of it! The basement level is still intact, okay. Booth might have ended up there…" she trailed off, hating herself because the theory was so weak and implausible.

Brennan felt a tugging on her insides, and a sudden need to follow that. "Ange…" Brennan swallowed. "I think he's in there."

"How?" Angela murmured, haven giving up all hope.

Brennan handed back the phone, a new aura of determination empowering her. "Call it a gut feeling."

_Booth would be proud…_ "I have to find him. I have to make up the mistakes I caused these past few weeks. I have to take that intuitive leap I didn't take before, Ange. I just _know _he's alive," Brennan explained.

Angela nodded, understanding and in awe of her best friend. "Go get him, Bren."

Brennan hugged Angela tightly, almost shocked about what she was doing. "Be careful, please," Angela begged. "Don't try fighting J.C."

"I won't…unless he hurts Booth."

* * *

Brennan's determination had started to waver. There seemed to be no way into the building. Every minute that passed gave J.C. a better chance of getting to Booth first. Just as she was about to give up completely, she saw an opening, which happened to be the same place J.C. entered. Entering, a hand grabbed her shoulder and yanked her back. Brennan spun around and came face to face with a firefighter.

"Miss, you can't go in there," she warned. "The the two floors about to collapse into the basement!"

Brennan looked in and saw huge piled of debris from the second floor cave-in. She looked back at the firewoman and accused, "But you're about to go in there!"

A grimace crossed the other woman's face. "My best friend went in there and he never came back out. What are you trying to do?"

"Same thing you are. I need to get to the basement though," Brennan explained. "You need to let me go in there. I'd never forgive myself if I didn't."

A torn expression crossed the other woman's face. "I'm sorry, but it's too dangerous."

Brennan sighed exasperatedly. "Look, I know because there are no other firefighters with you, you were probably ordered not to come in here because of that danger, but nonetheless, you came because you're best friend is in trouble. I'm in that same position, and whether you like it or not, I'm going!"

Brennan turned to leave when the woman's hand shot out again. "Wait, hold on! Brennan glared back, but softened the look when she noticed a new look of understanding on the other woman's face.

"You're insane. But apparently I am, too. Take this," she said, handing Brennan a spare mask. Brennan nodded gratefully as she put it on. The other woman entered first, leading the way. They disappeared into the darkness. Brennan was dismayed to find the minute they entered, they already had to climb up a mountain of unstable debris. At the same time, she noted she could still see parts of the first floor bottom, indicating the second floor did not collapse entirely.

Which meant the way to the basement may still be unblocked.

There was a rumble, and the two women froze. Tensed, Brennan waited for the building to settle once more. Once that passed, they moved a little more quickly. There was one particularly bad moment when the rubble shifted and the firefighter fell into a crevice. Brennan helped pulled her back up, nearly throwing out her shoulders. The two collapsed, breathing heavily after their brush with injury.

"We need to keep going," Brennan gasped in her mask. The other woman didn't answer. She was staring straight ahead, her whole posture stiff. Brennan followed her gaze and detected an outline of a body.

"Lord, that's him!" she snapped out of it. Brennan watched as she scrambled down the hill of rubble to the fallen firefighter. Brennan followed, trying not to break a limb.

"Frank! Wake up, buddy it's Marie!" she urged as she ripped off her oxygen mask and placed it on the unresponsive man's face. Darkly, Brennan noticed a long trail of blood flowing from the man's head.

"Frank!" Marie urged again, checking for a pulse. His eyes suddenly flickered open and he coughed weakly.

"I lost a fight with a brick…" he murmured.

Marie hugged him tightly, and Brennan couldn't help but watch the entire exchange. She realized once again that's all she wanted to do. She wanted to find Booth, and hold him. Several memories flitted through her head of the past times he willingly held her when she needed it, times she was hurt or scared. Even if he never spoke to her again after this, she wanted to embrace him just one more time.

Marie helped haul Frank to his feet. "There was this kid…" he muttered. "I tried to stop him, and he knocked me out…"

"Was he about six feet tall, brown hair and hazel-eyed?" Brennan asked, her heart pounding.

He nodded weakly and Marie looked at her with confusion.

"Long story. Don't let him sleep, he most likely has a severe concussion," Brennan warned Marie. She nodded and gave Brennan a thumbs up.

"Be careful," Marie warned.

"Think it's a little late for that," Brennan answered grimly.

* * *

"You killed Georgie, you bastard!" J.C. spat. "You killed my brother!"

Booth shook his head. "What the hell? _Brother_--"

"Don't you remember me? Huh? I was just a kid who had nothing but his brother! Don't you remember a scared kid, who had no idea what was happening that day you and the other agents swarmed his house? 'Please, Mr. Booth, don't hurt him'. Don't you remember? You shot him in the head and I had to watch it!" J.C. screamed. He started hiccupping as tears sprang from his eyes.

Booth went back to that day, and it hit him. He remembered the boy who ran into him, remembered the pleas. _Dear God, J.C. was Wycliffe's kid brother? _

"You're Boome?" Booth asked, his mind reeling.

"Damn right I'm Boome. My brother had mental problems. He wasn't an evil man. But you murdered him anyway. Hey, Booth, you're Catholic, right? Doesn't the good Book say 'an eye for an eye'. One of us is going to die today, and it sure as hell isn't me," J.C. gritted out.

Booth remained silent, fighting off a sudden bout of dizziness. He couldn't believe what was happening. The pipes shifted slightly and Booth watched with horror as J.C. struggled to free himself despite the broken arm. J.C. rolled the pipe off his shoulder, biting back a scream as it scraped against his injured arm. Standing shakily, he limped his way toward Booth.

Booth saw what was about to happen and he lifted his arm just in time to block a sharp kick to the head. He yelled as J.C. went to strike again. This time the kick landed in his side. Booth felt tears spring to his eyes as J.C. did it again and again. Growling, J.C. fell to his knees and started pummeling a defenseless Booth with fists.

* * *

"NO!"

Brennan felt herself fall freely about ten feet before she landed on her foot. She grunted in pain and swore. "DAMNIT!" She had made it all the way down to the basement level without injury, but ended up spraining her ankle on the last ten feet. Shaking her head, she stood. She was hot, exhausted, dirty, and hurt but she limped on. She scanned the wreckage and darkness, trying to find any source of life. Her heart began to sink. There was nothing here. The images she had of rescuing Booth earlier dissipated. All she had left was the gray rubble in front of her. _Don't cry, don't give up…_

All she could do was move on. Fire flickered in front of her, and still she saw nothing. _Booth is nothing but a corpse now. His bone structure would have completely shattered under this pressure…_Brennan held back vomit as an image of human road kill filled her mind. That's what he would look like now.

She screamed in anger and in despair. "WHY?!" Her voice echoed off the walls. She collapsed unto the rubble, not understanding. And then she heard something else.

Her ears picked up voices. Cries and yells. Her head snapped left to a mountain of rubble. "Booth…" she whispered, a cautious hope lifting her to her feet. She half crawled, half stumbled up the wreckage until she reached the peak. By then she almost could touch what remained of the ceiling. The voices were louder, and she called out, "BOOTH! Answer me, please, let me know it's you!"

Her hands reached the top. Pulling herself over she saw Booth pinned to the ground, completely stilled and bloodied. "Booth!" she cried out, her hand traveling to her mouth in complete shock. She looked around quickly and found no one. She slid down the rubble, ignoring the cuts on her back and legs. She ran with her sprained ankle to Booth's side and threw herself down next to him.

"Booth, look at me! Wake up!" Brennan touched his face gingerly. Her hand came away with blood. She took in his injuries, grimly noting the blood coming from under his leg, his broken arm, and all the blood on his face. She felt for a pulse on his wrist. Not finding one, she quickly checked for a pulse around his neck. Even then, she could not find one.

"Booth, please!" she begged. She put her hand in front of his mouth, wishing she could feel his breaths. A soft puff of air made her cry with relief. He coughed, and Brennan flinched as blood sprayed her hand.

He lifted his hand and weakly tried pushing hers away. She could make out a gurgled, "No."

"Booth, it's me, it's Brennan. It's Bones, Booth. Bones," she urged, grasping his hand.

She saw him trying to open his eyes, but both were swollen shut. She heard him exhale shakily, and she felt his hand go limp in hers. He was still breathing, but barely. It was then she noticed the extent of the injuries to his head and face. His jaw was most definitely broken. His lips were split and bleeding. His nose seemed to be bent to the left and she shook her head, not understanding.

The injuries on his face came from a beating, not the fall to the basement.

_  
J.C.…_

She heard glass crack behind her. She tried turning but something slammed into her head. It knocked her down to the ground, stars dancing in front of her eyes. She looked up at her attacker painfully, and found J.C. dropping a piece of piping. He picked up a cinderblock with his one arm and limped toward Booth.

"Dr. Brennan. You shouldn't be here. You have nothing to do with this," he said eerily. He started raising the block over his head, aiming to drop it on Booth's face. Brennan only knew what that would do to his skull.

"Please don't do this," she warned, trying to get back to her feet.

"He killed my brother. I can't stop just because you ask me," he snarled.

And he raised the block over his head.


	16. I'm Here

AN: **IMPORTANT--**I posted an earlier chapter EARLY this morning, so read that before this one.

AN2: Reviews make me write faster, lol.

**Chapter Sixteen: "I'm Here."**

Brennan watched with disdain and disgust as J.C. lifted the cinderblock above his head. He was going to make her watch Booth die, hear the crack of bone as his cranium became crushed. Brennan felt rage that overpowered any fear or hesitation.

"J.C.!" she shrieked. He spared her a glance and she drew her very BIG gun from the back of her jeans.

"Get away from Booth, now!" she ordered, her weapon aimed up at J.C.'s chest.

He smirked at her and mocked, "Dr. Brennan, I thought someone charged with a felony couldn't carry concealed weapons. How would your beloved agent feel about that?"

Brennan glared at him and answered coldly, "Don't think I won't shoot you because quite frankly, I could care less."

J.C. laughed quietly. "Well then, I suppose this is the part you tell me to drop my weapon. And it is getting awfully heavy…"

Brennan's eyes widened as she saw J.C. loosen his hold on the block. Without hesitation she pulled the trigger. There was a deafening blast and the recoil nearly knocked her over. She heard J.C. elicit a guttural groan and fall back. The cinderblock slipped from his hand and smashed to the ground, inches from Booth's head. J.C. laid on the concrete, unmoving. Realizing she had been holding her breath, she exhaled slowly, allowing the ringing from the gun blast to die away. She got to her knees and crawled over to J.C. Seeing a pool of blood form just below his shoulder and how still his chest was almost convinced her he was dead. Just as she was about to check his pulse, she heard a moan from behind her.

"Booth," she whispered.

Dropping her gun, she placed her hand in his and said, "It's Bones. I'm here, I'm right here." Brennan felt sick. He didn't even look like himself anymore. The strong features she had grown so used to seeing were cracked and bloody. He was just a shell of a broken man.

She saw him try to speak, but his shattered jawbone wouldn't allow him to form nothing more than incomprehensible babbles. It broke her heart. She couldn't even hold him he was so hurt and fragile. Brennan was reduced to merely grasping his hand, and even that had to be done gently. She saw first-degree burn marks scattered along his palm. Though she tried to let him know he was now safe, she knew he wouldn't understand. He probably didn't even know she was there.

"I'm going to get you out of here, Booth," she said as tears slid down her face. _That is most definitely an impossibility. And he doesn't understand you anyway…_

"And when this is over, I'm taking you to the Diner and you can steal all my fries…" she swiped at her eyes as she tried lifting the rubble off him. _That is another impossibility, since the dead can't do anything more than decompose…_

"Oh, shut the hell up!" she cried as she struggled with the huge chunk of ceiling that pinned Booth down. She strained her back, leg, and arm muscles to the point where she nearly pulled something. Groaning, she fell back to her knees. "Okay," she coughed. She remembered the mask she had earlier and slipped it back on her face. She had originally planned to give it to Booth, but it would be of no use now. She looked back at the way she came, and back down at Booth.

Kneeling, she whispered into his ear, "Look…I'm going to have to go back and get help. I know you're here. I'm going to get help, okay? You…"

She trailed off as she saw his phone lying in the rubble, a few feet from his side. She picked it up, allowing the small hope there was a signal left or battery life for that matter. Flipping the phone open, she nearly started crying again when she saw her number flashing on the screen. He had called her. _He was disoriented, your number is on speed dial, easy to call, it's why he didn't cal Cullen or 911..._

There was no signal left, and she knew there hadn't been since the last collapse.

She looked back at Booth, not wanting to leave him alone. She knew the chances of her getting back out with an injured ankle were slim. She also knew that coming back with help and a stretcher had a significantly less probability. And if even she could accomplish all that, Booth was still on his deathbed. Who was to say he wouldn't slip away during the time she was gone?

Brennan took his hand and curled her fingers with his. She needed to try. She was already here, against all odds. Now she needed to go back. "Booth…I'm sorry for being scared. I'm sorry I didn't give you J.C.'s letter sooner. And even though, it still may have ended like this, we wouldn't have been fighting…" She drew a shaky breath and squeezed his hand. "I'm going to fix this, okay?" Even as she was saying it, she was shaking her head. Things looked utterly hopeless. These may have well been the last things she said to her partner, her friend, and her protector. And he might not have heard a single thing.

She brushed the dirt off his swollen eyes and mouth. Squeezing his hand one last time, she kissed his forehead. Rising with a leaden heart, she started limping her way toward the first floor stairway. A crunching of glass stopped her.

She ducked, feeling the whoosh of air as something was swung with the force of a baseball bat. Spinning around she saw J.C. wielding a pipe. He staggered toward her, his broken arm swinging from his shoulder socket. His eyes were empty and pink bubbles of blood formed on his lips. The gunshot wound didn't seem to bother him as he swung again. Brennan felt for her gun, and to her disdain, discovered she left it lying next to Booth. J.C. swung again, and Brennan jumped back into a pile of debris. She rolled off just as he brought the pipe down where her head had been. She stumbled her way back to where her gun was, but she wasn't fast enough. She felt the steel connect with the back of her knee and she went down hard.

"AHHGG!" she screamed as she felt her knee socket become dislocated. The pain was excruciating, and she could do nothing more than crawl pitifully away from J.C. He came over to her, limping. He kneeled on her back and Brennan gritted her teeth, unable to throw him off with her injuries. He raised the steel pipe. Brennan covered her head, but she had seen thousands of crushed skulls in her career. She knew she about to die, just like Booth.

There was another ear-shattering blast and the steel blow never came. Liquid suddenly sprayed the back of her head and neck. J.C.'s weight was no more as he toppled over, lifeless. Brennan looked at him, shocked to find a gaping bullet wound in his head. She whipped her head back to Booth, not believing what had just happened.

Booth let her gun drop to the floor. He collapsed back onto his broken arm, but he could no longer feel it. He couldn't feel anything for that matter. He had been able to open his left eye a few centimeters, but it was so much easier to close it. He felt Brennan scramble back to him, touch his face and hand. _Bones…_He didn't even remember why she was there. He had heard her scream in pain, and that was enough to bring him out of his paralyzed state. But now…everything seemed to slip far away. Breathing became a Herculean task. It was entirely too taxing for what his battered body could handle anymore.

So his body stopped doing just that.

"Booth? Oh my god, Booth!"

She shook him, not caring how much it would hurt him. "Damn it! If you had enough left in you to kill that bastard, then you can keep breathing!"

He remained unresponsive.

"What am I going to tell Parker? That you gave up?" Brennan started sobbing. "You can't die yet! There are so many people that you've helped, so many that still need you! I can't let you go, I can't!"

She rested her head on his chest and yelled, "Everybody leaves me! You promised you never would!"

And that was when she heard voices. She ventured a look with bleary and reddened eyes, the tears still cascading freely. On the opposite side of the room, she saw rubble shake. A second door creaked open and a figure made his way into the room.

"There she is! That's the woman who came in with me," Brennan heard a familiar voice. Marie entered with four other firemen, one of them carrying a stretcher. She heard Marie faintly scold the others for not thinking they could find an easier way to the basement.

Brennan found her voice, and hoarsely said, "He's not breathing. He just stopped…"

Marie bent down and warily surveyed J.C. She saw the gun next to the agent's hand and put two and two together without the details of what happened or why. One of the other fireman brought a medical kit, and tried resuscitating Booth. Marie pulled Brennan back as the others lifted the drywall and ceiling chunks of Booth's body.

"It's going to be okay," Marie reassured, bur Brennan heard none of it. She was waiting to see Booth's chest move, hear him take that breath. But none of that was happening. She dimly caught Marie saying how they needed to get a cop or someone down there 'about the stiff with an extra hole in the head' but that was it. More lights shone into the basement as additional paramedics and help came. Apparently they all found another passageway that led directly outside, an easy few minutes trip even with the rubble.

Marie tried leading Brennan out of the basement, but she would have none of it. "Come on, Booth," she pleaded. "Breathe!"

She watched numbly as they inserted an endo-tracheal down his throat that was attached to a breathing bag.

"They're not going to save him," she whispered as Booth was placed onto the stretcher. Marie couldn't answer her. Then Brennan heard the magical words.

"_He's got a pulse! Poor guy's got a chance!"_

Brennan closed her eyes and mouthed a 'thank you'.

Marie helped her to her feet again. "Come on, miss. You can ride with him to the hospital…you know, you never told me your name."

Brennan stared at the men who carried Booth up the stairs, out of the darkness and into the light. He had a chance. That was all Brennan needed.

"My name?" Brennan breathed out. "Just call me Bones."


	17. Remembering to Breathe

AN: Had a difficult time writing this chap. Could be because it's 2 in the morning. Could be all the little gnats attracted to the screen and I'm constantly trying to kill them. One thing for sure is that there'll be one more chapter after this.

AN2: Thanks for the reviews!

**Chapter Seventeen: Remembering to Breathe**

The ambulance ride was absolute hell. She had refused any treatment from the medics, insisting they worry about Booth solely. And by refusing treatment, she felt every rock, bump, _twig _that was on the road, each object sending knives of pain up her leg when the vehicle sped over it. Physical pain was the least of her problems. She had to look at _him. _She had to realize how bad his injuries were.

As they began cutting his clothes, she irrationally murmured, "Wait… that was his favorite jacket…" Thankfully the others hadn't heard her. She forgot about the trashed clothing when her eyes became set on Booth's beaten body. Most obvious was his broken arm. Whether from the blast or the two-story fall to the basement, she didn't know. _Snapped humerus, ulna is also broken or fractured…_Brennan closed her eyes, knowing how painful it would have been. Her eyes then took in all the blood. It was like he had bathed in it. His face was unrecognizable, which was one of the main sources of the bleeding. She knew already that his jaw was also broken, if not completely shattered from J.C.'s attack. Brennan knew if Booth lived he'd either have to have a steel plate or pins to fix it. His nose was broken. Nothing they could really do about that, she sighed. The rest of his face was covered in ugly purple, blue, and black bruises. Both eyes were swollen shut again, and Brennan remained amazed that he could open them earlier. She saw the youngest medic check Booth's pupils, and Brennan saw that they were too wide. She could have sworn the chocolate brown had turned black…they were so lifeless. They were blank orbs, nothing more.

And that's when she almost lost it again. _Damn it, Tempe. You can't look at him like another victim. You've been keeping it too clinical, this is Booth! It's okay to hurt because he is…_

"Grade 3 concussion," another medic added, a tall brunette that reminded Brennan of Angela. _Thankfully Ange saw me before we left…_Looking back, Brennan wasn't so sure now. Angela had caught her as Brennan was helped into the ambulance. She had seen Booth, she knew how critical his condition was. Whether or not she sugar-coated it for the others, Brennan didn't get to hear. Then Angela had the misfortune to see J.C., and a deadpan expression had taken over her face. There was just to much to deal with.

Brennan forced herself to look at him again. She saw first-degree burn marks scattered along his body, but most of that sort of damage was contained on his other arm. She sighed, knowing they could have been third degree burns instead. A large ugly brown hue was forming around his stomach, and she knew it was internal bleeding. She bit back a string of swears. **That **came from the fall. Looking at his chest, past the bruises and blood, she could tell the fourth and sixth ribs were fractured. This could have also been the reason why Booth stopped breathing. _Unless I'm wrong, and one of them punctured a lung. Maybe one was punctured earlier for a different reason…he was in so much pain earlier…_

She reached out and stroked his hand knowing she wasn't able to hold it. "Please…Booth…"

She didn't know what to say, but the mirror image of Angela said gently, "Just keep talking to him. He may be able to hear you."

"I'll say what I need to say to him when I know for certain he's listening," Brennan breathed out, unconsciously holding her breath. She did not miss the looks of doubt the others passed each other.

Ignoring them, she took in Booth's condition further, silently calculating his odds of living.

She had to stop counting after they went down past thirty per cent.

Swallowing, she realized her hand had become caked with red. _Too much blood…_her eyes traveled to his leg and she saw a deep laceration that was gritty with mud, dirt, and pieces of debris. From what she could tell, it had never stopped bleeding.

"Are we almost there?" Brennan asked, not missing the fact that she sounded like an exhausted child.

"Five minutes, give or take Dr. Brennan," one answered sympathetically.

Brennan exhaled, believing that nothing wrong could happen in such a short amount pf time. But during a sharp, nearly two-wheeled turn (the kind Brennan scolded Booth about when they were speeding to a crime scene) the endo-tracheal became dislodged. Painful seconds ticked by before a medic replaced the tube. "Damn it, something's wrong with the tube," one of the exhausted paramedical swore.

"Is he getting air?"

"Yes, but he could be getting more…"

The ambulance went over a pothole and Brennan winced, Resisting the urge to grab her knee, she swallowed hard and focused her attention back on Booth. Though he was receiving oxygen artificially, she could tell from the prolonged deficiency of said gas was having a visible affect. Booth's lips and fingertips were a dark shade of blue.

"_Booth, they're blue." Brennan had pointed to one of the bodies. Though she was interested in the skeletal ones, and was more than happy to let the coroner take over the 'fleshies', she preferred to observe everything about her surroundings._

"_Asphyxiation," Booth had mulled aloud. "Lack of air tends to make you look like a smurf…"_

"_Smurfs?"_

_Booth shot her an all too familiar look that said, 'are you kidding me?' But instead of teasing her, he laughed slightly._

"_I don't see any marks on the flesh…" Brennan observed. "Check her trachea."_

_Booth had thrown up his hands and replied, "Do I look like a coroner to you?"_

"_I'm just asking you to look…"_

"_Fine! Okay, looking in trachea…" Booth had given in. He shone a flashlight, and grimaced after a few seconds._

"_I think I can see the obstruction. It's wadded up paper. And if it's like the others, it'll be a message from our serial…"_

Brennan snapped out of the memory with an audible gasp as one of the medics announced, "Victim's pulse becoming more sluggish. No response to the oxygen…"

"His jaw," Brennan spoke. "There's probably a fragment if bone or tooth that's interfering with the endo-tracheal."

The medic nodded and shone a tiny flashlight down Booth's throat, removing the tube again. Brennan couldn't believe they hadn't thought of that before, but she kept her mouth shut. _These guys are just as exhausted as I am…they've been ferrying victims from the bomb site to the hospital all day…_

"I think I see it," the medic announced edgily. Brennan held her breath as the young man extracted a piece of Booth's mandible. The tube was reinserted seconds later, and the resulting affect was almost immediate. Booth looked slightly less pale, and the blue tinges were becoming disappearing.

And it was only when they pulled up to the emergency doors that Brennan herself remembered to breathe again.

* * *

"Thank you, Dr. Brennan for your statement. You can rest now."

Brennan looked wearily at the agent who was in charge of investigating the explosion. His stoicism annoyed her, and she was all but thrilled when he and his assiastants left her alone. She had been sitting sideways on the bed, her braced leg dangling uselessly. She hated hospitals. But she didn't want to go home. For the past three hours, she had given a full-detailed account of the case, and of what happened when she found Booth. She was more than ready in letting the others give their statements on how they discovered J.C. was Boome. Was she tired? No--she was dead exhausted.

Brennan leaned back onto the bed. Angela had come in earlier, but the two had sat in silence. Maybe if they knew Booth survived the emergency surgeries, they could have broken the tense mood. Angela said she was going to get coffee, but she had yet to return. Turning on the news, Brennan was barraged with images of the exploding building. Switching the television back off immediately didn't stop the onslaught of emotion. So much blood had been spilt today. So many fathers, mothers, brothers, friends, co-workers had died.

And she was about to lose Booth for good.

A knock on the doorway startled Brennan. She saw Zach leaning in, looking just as drained as she was. It was then she remembered they were in the same hospital. Brennan collected herself and blinked back the drops of threatening tears.

"Hey, Zach. How you holding up?" she smiled sadly.

"Apparently better than you," Zach tried joking. He paused before asking, "So J.C. is dead?"

"Yeah," Brennan supplied. "He's very much dead."

"Oh."

Brennan sensed Zach was here for another reason, and for a moment she thought it had something to do with Booth. Her eyes pleaded with his to get on with whatever he had to say and stop stalling. Zach saw the plea and he blew out air.

"I came to apologize, Dr. Brennan. About blaming you for Zoey…for what happened to her," he whispered, red flushing his cheeks. He was truly and sincerely sorry.

"It's okay, Zach," Brennan answered, feeling his anguish.

"No, no it's not. I lost my objectivity and caused more pain than what was necessary. I let my feelings interfere," Zach countered.

Brennan shook her head. "Zach, it was your feelings that discovered who J.C. really was." She let a humorless laugh and added, "I mean, I let my own feelings drive me to find Booth, against all rationality. It doesn't matter how scientific, or how rational we want things to be. There's always that human element. A friend of mine told me humanity shares the blame. Another tried to show me that…but he hadn't pushed that through my skull until now."

Zach nodded slowly, and said, "Won't Booth be proud to finally see that happen."

"Zach…he's probably not going to make it," Brennan admitted painfully.

"I wouldn't say that, Dr. Brennan," a voice interrupted.

A surgeon entered the room, and both Brennan and Zach balked at the amount of blood on his scrubs. Recovering quickly, Brennan asked, "Booth made it?"

Nodding slowly, the doctor clarified, "I'll be honest with you. We lost him several times during surgery, but we were able to repair most of the damaged bone, and stop the internal bleeding. He's still on a breathing tube, however. He's in ICU right now."

"Can I see him?"

"Only family can--"

"Please," Brennan interrupted, "I had to watch him almost die several times today…and we were having problems earlier…and I know just because he made it through the surgery it doesn't mean he'll survive. I need to talk to him."

The doctor studied her for a few moments before saying, "As I said, only family can see him for a few minutes at a time. And because his 'fiance', Dr. Saroyan is in there, I'm sure the nurses won't mind Agent Booth's 'sister' dropping in."

"Thank you," Brennan said softly, her heart beating rapidly. "What room?"

* * *

Coming down the hall it sickened her seeing all the machinery keeping Booth alive. At this point, he was more artificial than human.

_Human. Booth. He's still here. _

Something ached in her heart. It felt like she forgot to do something with Booth, or didn't tell him something she wanted to say. She felt like a piece of her was missing, and it seemed like she couldn't even breathe correctly. So she had decided, after losing him once too many times, that she'd talk it out. Even if he couldn't hear her as she originally planned. It may be easier anyway.

She stopped outside his door and awkwardly set the crutches aside. She saw Cam and remembered she was pretending to be Booth's fiance. Cam didn't even notice the other woman standing outside the door. She was staring vacantly at Booth. Brennan watched with uncertainty as Cam rose from her seat and grasp Booth's hand.

"Seeley, I know you can pull through. You're too damn stubborn--" Cam stopped as she felt a twitching in her palm.

"Can you hear me Booth?"

Brennan watched with fascination and relief as Booth flexed his hand muscles. Cam whispered into his ear, "Follow my voice. I'm right here." Brennan felt a jerk, realizing those where similar words she used when she tried comforting Booth. Only he didn't respond, like he was with Cam.

"Can you open your eyes?" Cam asked Booth, her eyes becoming wet. The swelling around Booth's eyes had gone down, and granted, he looked like a raccoon, he was able to open them. Brennan saw they were no longer blank and lifeless and gave a watery smile to one of the passing nurses. Groggily, Booth tried speaking.

Cam kissed his forehead, tears of relief streaming down her face. "Don't talk, okay? You had a lot of trouble breathing, and you still do. Doctors also had to wire your jaw shut."

Brennan was about to say something when Booth weakly lifted his hand to Cam. Brennan stopped, suddenly feeling hurt. Booth's hand touched Cam's face before it rested on the bed again.

Brennan stepped back feeling a pang of jealousy and regret. She looked at Booth. He wasn't the shell she found in rubble. He was on the road to recovery. He wasn't bloody. His leg was stitched up, the broken bones in either casts or pins, the internal bleeding staunched. She should have felt happy for him.

So why did it hurt so damn much?

Quietly, she left.

Booth managed to turn his head toward the door then, but it was too late. Neither of them had known Brennan was there. Booth looked back at Cam, his eyes pleading. She knew what he wanted, and she fished out pen and paper.

Slowly, Booth scribbled out a message. Cam nodded and replied, "I'll get this to her as soon as possible, okay? God, you don't believe how happy I am to see you back among the living, Seel."

If Booth could have smiled he would. Instead, the painkillers kicked in and he fell back into a deep, black, drug-induced rest, allowing for his body to begin the healing process.

Cam reread the note and smiled sadly, knowing Booth's body wasn't the only thing needed repairing.

_"Need to talk to you about everything. -B. P.S. You own me fries."_

* * *

_AN: I am too tired to triple check this, mistakes are mine. Good night._


	18. Epilogue

AN: This is it! The end. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, it's what keeps me going.

**Epilogue **

Zach stood in the doorway of Zoey's hospital room. Closing his eyes, he tried picturing how she looked before the blast. He could see her, smiling and glowing with life. Stepping in, he tried controlling the tugging at his heart. He knew he was still very much attached to her, and all his attempts to move on had been pointless. Zach reached out and stroked Zoey's hand, feeling awkward. He had no idea what to do or say in situations like these, and he despised it.

"Hey, Zach…"

Angela walked in slowly, watching Zach and Zoey. "You're not ready for me to drive you home yet, right?"

Zach answered, "That's an affirmative. She doesn't have anyone. It feels like…"

"Like you should be here?" Angela supplemented.

Zach didn't answer. He let his hand drop, and Angela saw him clench it tightly. "Angela…" he began, his voice strained. "You remember how I said I had a bad feeling going to the car?"

Angela nodded. "Gut feelings aren't bad, Zach. Feels weird for you, doesn't it?"

Zach turned to face her, shaking his head yes. "When I'm in the lab, working on cases, this sensation of _just knowing _isn't there. But when it comes to outside events, things, people--it's becoming more evident."

"People?" Angela prompted.

"J.C." Zach elaborated. "When he came, I didn't like him, because I _just knew _something was wrong with him. I didn't want to tell you when you asked me that day because I didn't want tense working relationships. Guess we won't have to worry about that anymore."

Angela put her hands on her waist and said, "You can say that again. When I saw them bring out J.C.'s body with Booth's it made everything more real."

"Well. It became real for me when he put Zoey in a comatose state," Zach said slightly harsh.

"I'm sorry, Zach," Angela softly said.

Zach started pacing and waving his hands. "I mean, I know I understand that I hold no blame in what happened to her, but I can't help but think 'what if?' What if I acted on my instincts? It is encoded in human D.N.A. to avoid danger and no matter how hard we scientists ignore that and the rest of the primal instincts, it's still there. Fear, hunger, need, a perception of danger, it's all there. Sometimes I think when we become the objective scientists we overlook ways to catch the bad guy, but I know that's not true. If we acted purely on instincts…"

"We'd never solve the case," Angela interrupted. "That's why we have Booth."

Zach sighed, getting most of what he had to say off his chest. "But it doesn't stop me for feeling responsible for what happened to Zoey."

"Well," Angela agreed. "It won't stop you. But I'm pretty sure she can help you ease the guilt."

Zach looked at Angela perplexedly. "What?"

Angela gave a short nod toward Zoey. "Turn around."

Zach did so, suddenly understanding. He smiled broadly and knelt down, grasping Zoey's hands. He felt her squeeze his weakly. He watched as her eyes flickered open and he shuddered. Angela whispered, "Good job, Zach." She turned and left the room, allowing the reunited "Z-squared" to have a few moments in private. Zach heard Angela's heels clicking as she left, and he noted silently to thank her later.

Zoey's eyes scanned Zach wearily. Though she couldn't voice it, she felt pangs of sadness and concern when discovered fading bruises and scars. Zach saw her looking and said, "There was an explosion. You've been in a coma for awhile."

He barely caught the fear that flashed in her eyes. He quickly added, "But we caught the guy. The one from the bombings? He can't do that anymore."

Zach knew she was dying to say something, but like Booth, she hadn't been able to breathe on her own. He stood, knees cracking. He knew grimly that the car bomb would be affecting him long after his leave from the hospital.

"I'm going to get a doctor."

She nodded in understanding. He felt that something was missing. Granted, she couldn't crack jokes at him like before, or make him laugh, but that wasn't what was wrong. He suddenly remembered before leaving the room. Running back sheepishly, she looked at him with questioning eyes. Smiling slightly, he leaned down and breathed in her ear, "Glad to have you back…_dude."_

_One Month Later…_

"Ummm Sweetie?"

Brennan looked up from a microscope and asked, "What is it, Ange?"

"I think my eyes are scarred. For life."

"Eyes don't get scars. At least I don't think they do," Brennan chuckled.

"Yeah, well Z-squared just became Z-powerhouse," Angela shivered.

Brennan rolled her eyes to the ceiling and said, "Zoey's not well enough to work yet, I highly doubt--"

"No," Angela interrupted, "Do not 'highly doubt' anything. I don't care if I was recently run over by a truck, If I were alone with Jack in a room, I'd still--"

"Beautiful imagery, Ange. That's why you knock before entering a room," Brennan smirked. She turned her attention back to the specimen and muttered, "Never thought 'powerhouse' was a possibility…Ange?"

When Brennan didn't get an answer, she turned back to the bottom of the platform…

And stared directly into the eyes of Special Agent Seeley Booth.

_Oh no…_

She watched as Angela squeezed Booth's good--non-cast arm and say, "Don't go into the supply room for awhile."

Booth looked at her cryptically but didn't ask as she walked away. He turned his attention back to Brennan. _She looks apprehensive. Wonderful. When did our partnership get to this point? _He cleared his throat and looked up expectedly, waiting for her to make the first move. He caught her taking a deep breath before saying, "Booth…what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be home?"

She watched for his reaction, but couldn't stop from looking at his physical appearance instead. He was wearing a pale yellow button up dress shirt and loose blue jeans, and his hair wasn't controlled with gel. It stuck up in some places, and she smiled after seeing this new side of him. _He looks so much better…his arm will be in cast for a long time, but that's nothing compared to everything that happened. Even his face looks the same again. A little sickly and pale, a little bit skinnier, but the same. _Then that old feeling of hurt invaded and she cast her eyes to the floor. Though she was relieved to see him now, she wanted him to leave. She detested feeling like this.

"I think I rested enough," Booth answered platonically. "But you wouldn't have known that, since you didn't even bother seeing me in the hospital."

Brennan saw hurt and anger cross his features. "Booth…I…"

"Didn't you get my note? I mean, it wasn't like I could call you then," Booth grilled.

Brennan stood abruptly and stormed down to him. "I don't want to talk about this here. Can we please go to my office?"

"Your territory babe, I'm not about to tell you what to do or not."

"Don't call me babe, it's a pig in a movie," she muttered.

Booth raised his eyes, surprised she had even seen the animal flick. At any other time, he'd been amused. But now he just wanted answers. Once in Brennan's office, he asked, "Well? Didn't you get it? It was the first thing I wrote after I woke up."

Brennan fished out the handwritten note and handed it back to him. "Yes."

Booth felt anger flare in his cheeks. _Why is she acting like this? _"Why didn't you come back? Why didn't you take my calls? You didn't even come see me, do you know what that was like?" he snapped.

"What is there to talk about?' Brennan asked, sounding defeated. "I found you, and Booth you might as well have been dead. You don't understand how hard it was for me to stop having nightmares about J.C. smashing your skull in."

Booth fiddled with the note, his anger receding. "But what does that have to do with anything?"

Brennan shrugged her shoulders and sat on the couch. Sighing, Booth sat next to her. She didn't miss his wincing.

"Why are we fighting?" Booth asked to the air.

Brennan remained silent for a few more seconds before slowly responding, "It's what friends do."

"No, that's bickering. We still have a problem," Booth muttered, leaning forward slightly.

Brennan nodded in agreement. "Booth…I didn't come back because…because I assumed you'd still be angry. About--"

"The letter?" Booth shook his head. "God, that seems like nothing now…" He scrutinized her before adding, "I refuse to believe that's the only reason why you didn't even bothering dropping in to say 'Hi? How are you doing?' You are a one woman who doesn't back down because she thinks she's pissing someone off."

"Well, come on, Booth," Brennan answered, her pitch raising. "You almost died! And I would have had to see it! I'm sorry, but I couldn't watch your painful--which by the way I can tell everything still hurts--recovery too. Those images of smashed face and all the blood, J.C.'s second attempt to kill you, how you stopped breathing and how the medics had to shove a breathing tube down your throat, which by the way, you were suffocating on your own jaw fragment and turning blue--it scared me. Okay? Is that what you want to hear? I can look at broken bodies, not broken friends! And besides, you have Cam. I mean, it was her that brought you back, wasn't it?"

It was Booth's turn to stare at the floor. _Booth, you are such an ass sometimes…_He heard jealousy and abandonment in her voice and it nearly killed him all over again.

"You saw that?" he asked.

Brennan nodded. Shaking his head, he explained, "Cam was the first thing that I saw that day that didn't try to kill me. I think I had every right to be happy. And besides, she's just a friend. I thought you knew that."

He saw Brennan's eyes widen in embarrassment. "Wait a second…" he said, his eyes turning mischievous, momentarily dropping any anger he had left. "You're jealous!"

"Am not!' she quickly said, her eyes flashing.

"I knew it," he grinned triumphantly.

"Booth," she warned. "I don't care if it hurts you, I will not spare you from either a kick or punch if you keep this up."

Booth threw his hands up. "Okay. Have it your way. But I'm going to speak now, say what I wanted to say before, and don't interrupt me."

Brennan groaned inwardly. She didn't want to hear this before, what made him think she'd listen now? "Booth I--"

"Bones," he warned her. She looked at him eerily. She hadn't been called that for a long time.

"But…" she started again, but not having much conviction in her voice anymore.

"Bones, I don't care. Now will you just can it?' Booth tried sounding stern, but he broke out chuckling.

"Well it can't be that impo--"

"TEMPERANCE! You're killing me here," Booth groaned.

Brennan shook her head. Defeated, she sat back and decided to listen to whatever he had to say.

"I'm going back to the beginning, so forgive me," he started, his voice turning serious and dark. "I was wrong. I said some pretty horrible things, I blamed you for something you didn't even do. I'm not asking you to forgive me for it, I'm just asking that you know none of it was true. You didn't cause the bomb victims' deaths, J.C. did."

He paused and heard Brennan take a shaky breath. Continuing, he said, "And after my building got bombed, and after J.C. found me, I was so sure I was going to die. I was in pain, weak, my body was shutting down. I don't remember a lot of what happened. I don't even remember shooting J.C. But I do remember a few important things."

Brennan looked at him, on the brink of tears again. _Suck it up, Brennan!_ "I heard your voice in the dark. It was what kept me going. You made me feel safe, and I don't think you understand that you were the difference between me living…or me dying."

_He heard me. He must have heard everything. Oh, God, I made him feel safe. It's what I wanted to do when I got there. _Brennan put her hand to her mouth and didn't care if the tears fell anymore. Booth put his over her shoulders and she leaned into his chest.

"You told me you were there. I knew you wanted to get help, but you were scared I'd die after you left…you saved my ass from J.C…" he added lightly.

She let a little laugh at that and he smiled. "When I was about to give up, I heard you ask me what you would tell Parker. When I felt like I was leaving I heard you say that everyone left you. You are the reason why I'm here today."

Brennan mulled it over in the silence. Slowly she said, "I don't want to fight anymore, Booth."

"Neither do I," he said softly.

"I thought you were gone. And it hurt me. I thought I was going to have to live the rest of my life knowing the last words I said to one of my best friends before he was killed were words that were nothing but harshness. I don't know what I'd do if that happened, if I did lose you" she murmured. _There you said it. It's been eating at you, and now it's out._

She tensed after meeting Booth's silence.

"…So we're good now?" he asked after awhile, his voice filled with relief.

Brennan gave him a watery smile, equally relieved. It felt like a burden had been lifted from her soul. She leaned in further and hugged Booth, remembering that she had wanted to do that ever since she found him in the rubble. He embraced her back, not believing how his luck had turned. He had his best friend back, his partner. _She doesn't want to lose me. And I sure as hell don't want to lose her. _She then felt him cringe slightly after a few moments, and she remembered his injured ribs.

"Oh! I'm so sorry Booth," she said quickly.

He waved it off. She took the opportune moment to mock, "What? Can't take a guy hug?"

He smirked and rose to his feet. "You know what smartass? You owe me a debt. And I think now is the perfect time to pay up."

Brennan frowned. "What?"

Booth leaned in closely, and Brennan felt the same sparks of electricity as she always did when he was within close proximity. Booth felt it too, suddenly. His cheeks flushed red for a moment, wondering if she felt it also. _That's an entirely different chapter of our lives I can deal with later…well maybe not too much later…_

Snapping back to reality, he met Brennan's challenged look.

Leading her out the door, he announced, "You owe me fries at the Diner."

* * *

AN: END!!! Push that little review button please! I'm shooting for 130 reviews, lol 


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